













^o 





























■>-..^^ ^'^^.r •"-<>,. .^ 



GATIIEIIED SKETCHES 

FROM 

THE E.\RLY HISTORY 

NEW HAMPSHIRE AND VERMONT; 

CONTAINING 

/ 

VIVID AND INTERESTING ACCOUNTS OF A GREAT VARIETY 

OP THE 

ADVENTURES OF OUR EOREFATHERS, 

%xCti of ot^er Intibents of ^Ib^n fintt. 
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED. 

EDITED BY 

FRANCIS CHASE, M. A. 

u 



CLAREMONT, N. H. : 
TRACY. Iv K N N I ^ Y it CO. 

185G. 



^37 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1856, by 

TRACY, KENNEY & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of New Hampshire. 



'f^JfQ 



STEREOTYPED AT THE 
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 



PEEFACE. 



Gentle reader, you have before you a collection of Sketches, 
gathered from the early history of New Hampshire and Vermont ; 
or, perhaps we ought to say, a selection, for the first period of the 
existence of these two states is a deep and copious mine, from 
which the diligent student may exhume any number of incidents, 
which it would be well worth while, both as a matter of curiosity 
and of information, to place before the reading public. 

In this selection you will find mcidents both gi-ave and gay, 
both pathetic and amusing ; some of them of considerable histori- 
cal importance, and others which some persons might think almost 
trifling. But it is intended that the" following pages shall illustrate 
as fully as possible the character of the times in which our ances- 
tors Hved. Their life, as is ours, was made up of trifles and 
weightier things combined, and the best illustration is that in 
which minor matters have their due proportion. We hope they 
will not be found too numerous in this attempt. 

The Editor takes no credit to liimself for his portion of the 
work. His work has been, for the most part, merely to select and 
arrange, adding here and there a note or a prefatory' remark to 
clear up the meaning of the text, or to give additional information. 
Such articles as have been taken from comiected histories have of 
course been altered to make them clear and intelligible when 
standing by themselves. Matters not connected with the main 
point of the story have been pruned out, and in some cases eluci- 
dating ^ntences have been put in ,- occasionally too, an inelegant 

(3) 



4 PREFACE. 

expression has been amended. The biographical and a few other 
articles have been prepared expressly for this work. Some frag- 
ments have been found in looking over old files of newspapers ; 
but most of them have been culled from books now out of print, 
and inaccessible to the majority of readers. Where the origin of 
an article has been certainly known, it has been duly credited. 
The Editor takes pleasure in acknowledging his indebtedness to 
the following excellent works : Williams's History of Vermont, 
Belknap's History of New Hampshire, Drake's Indian Capti\'ities, 
Farmer and Moore's Historical Collections of New Hampshire, 
De Puy's Ethan Allen and the Green Moimtain Heroes of '76, and 
Powers's interesting little History of the Coos Coimtry. For the 
excellent fragment of history entitled " Kilbum's Defence," he is 
indebted to the faithful pen of Dr. E. Morse, of Walpole, N. H. 
Above all, he would offer his sincerest thanks to those kind 
friends, without whose generous assistance he could, in his present 
circumstances, by no means have performed the labor of preparing 
the present work. He indulges the hope that their joint labors 
will be kindly received, and that this humble book may, in the 
houses of both the lofty and the lowly of New England, be a source 
of lasting pleasure. To the aged may it bring up pleasant pictures 
of former days ; to the risuig generation may it serve as an instruc- 
tive historj' of times past, and as an agreeable substitute for the 
useless works of fiction which are scattered in such profusion 
throughout the land. 



CONTENTS 



PAQK 



Introductory Chapter, 7 

The Red Man's Stratagem, 13 

Death of Major Waldi-on, 18 

The Captivity and Sufferings of Miss Sarah Gerish, . ... 21 

Three Narratives, 25 

Lovewell's Fight, 32 

The Boar and the Bear, 39 

The Captivity of Mrs. Isabella M'Coy, of Epsom, N. H., . . 46 

Peabody's Leap, 54 

Kilbum's Defence, 62 

Indian Bridge, 71 

The Capti\ity and Sufferings of Mrs. Jemima Howe, ... 75 

Hilton, of Famous Memorj', 91 

Indian Fun, 97 

The Headless Spectre, 99 

Attack upon Number Four, 102 

The Indians at War ; their Usages and Customs, .... 106 

A Witch Stor>' of Olden Time, 116 

1* (5) 



6 CONTENTS. 



PAS I 



Baker's Retreat, 121 

Destruction of the Indian Village of St. Francisj 124 

Peter Brown's Temperance Lesson, 131 

Incidents from the Life of Colonel Ethan Allen, 135 

Seizure of Captain Remember Baker by the Yorkers, . . . 143 

Female Courage, 149 

The Battle of Bennington, 151 

Anecdotes from the Life of General Stark, 158 

An Act of Courage, 165 

The Old Man of the Mountam, 170 

The New Hampshire Rangers, 174 

The Burning of Royalton, 181 



INCIDENTS. 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

No history is more interesting to a nation than 
the narrative of its own origin and progress. No 
events are more attractive to young and old than 
the incidents of varied suffering and prosperity, of 
romance and of sturdy fact, which cluster around 
the beginning of their country's existence. The 
polished writers of Greece and Rome knew this, 
and because Homer and Yirgil sang of these things, 
their vivid and graceful verses were in the mouths 
of the lowest as well as the highest of their coun- 
trymen. Greeks and Romans alike were fain to 
magnify into gods and heroes the founders of their 
respective empires. The exploits of Jason, Her- 
cules, and Romulus were magnified by tradition into 
superhuman actions ; and their heroic achievements 
were related in hovel and palace with equal pride 
and admiration. In this respect, the feelings that 
actuated ancient nations prevail in the same degree 
among modern ones. And perhaps there is no 

(7) 



8 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

nation on the face of the earth that has so much 
patriotic pride in their ancestry as our own. A 
son of that state whose green and beautiful moun- 
tains have given it a name, feels his bosom glow as 
warmly when the name of Ethan Allen is mentioned, 
as did the Greek when speaking of his Hercules, or 
the Roman when relating the deeds of Romulus. 
There is no nation indeed which has more reason 
to be proud of its founders than our own, and 
there are no states, within the broad boundaries of 
our country, whose early history is fraught with 
incidents so interesting, or so full of exciting ad- 
venture, as is that of New Hampshire and Vermont. 
The first settlers of these states were men of strong 
arms and brave hearts, who came with wives as 
energetic and fearless as themselves, to hew them 
out a home from among the dense and tangled for- 
ests which then covered the land. They were men 
fitted either for action or endurance. They were 
accustomed to the hardships of a frontier life. 
They understood the ways of the savage tribes 
which surrounded them, and were most of them 
more than a match for their wily foe in all the arts 
and stratagems of Indian warfare. True, they were 
sometimes overpowered by numbers, or lured by the 
savages into traps set for their destruction ; but still 
it seems almost a wonder that they were able to 
exist, or tb stand at all against a numerous and 
cunning enemy. Their settlements were scattered ; 
80 much so, that frequently one family was located 
several miles distant from any other. Such a 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 9 

position was of course exposed at all times to open 
and secret attacks from a savage foe, and called 
for the most extreme caution on the part of the 
adventurous settlers. Each cabin was a castle, that 
must be defended by the inhabitants to the death. 
The story of " Kilburn's Defence '^ will be found to 
illustrate what has been said on this point. 

There seems to be a peculiar propriety in con- 
necting the early histories of New Hampshire and 
Vermont. True, New Hampshire was settled by 
the whites one hundred years before any permanent 
location had been made by civilized persons within 
the borders of Vermont ; still, the same tribes of 
Indians roamed and hunted over the whole territory. 
The French and Indians of Canada, when they 
dashed down upon the infant settlements of New 
Hampshire, took their course over the verdant 
mountains of Vermont and along the meadows of 
the Connecticut Valley ; and when they returned, 
they dragged their unwilling and woe-worn captives 
through the same forests and across the same green 
hills. They were connected too, in the eye of the 
law, by grants from the crown of England ; which 
made the western boundary of New Hampshire 
extend to within twenty miles of the Hudson River. 
The State of New York did indeed set up an op- 
posing claim to the land west of the Connecticut 
River ; but the claims of New Hampshire had been 
first acknowledged by many of the actual settlers, 
and though New York tried to enforce her authority 
she could not succeed. For some time previous to 



10 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

the revolutionary war quite a fierce strife was car- 
ried on between the inhabitants of the New Hamp- 
shire grants and the New York officials, in which 
the former were assisted and abetted by the author- 
ities of the state from which they had derived their 
lands. No apology need therefore be made for 
uniting in one volume incidents from the early his- 
tory of these sister states. They were connected 
in actual fact, and it is well they should be so in 
whatever resembles an historical account. 

A brief sketch of the settlement of New Hamp- 
shire and Vermont may be useful as a chain to con- 
nect together the following detached narratives. 
As early as the year 1623 the English had begun 
settlements on the Piscataqua River. One David 
Thompson, with others, erected salt works and es- 
tablished a fishery at Portsmouth. Edward and 
William Hilton went eight miles farther up the 
river, to Dover. Thompson did not remain long in 
his location, but it does not appear that the estab- 
lishment he had made was entirely deserted. The 
Hiltons of Dover played quite a prominent part in 
the early history of this state, and some of their 
descendants have been quite famous for their brave- 
ry, prowess, and skill in Indian warfare. It is of 
one of these that an incident is related in the fol- 
lowing pages. The early settlers in New Hamp- 
shire never pretended that they sought a home in 
the wilderness for the sake of religious liberty. 
They declared openly that they came to the Piscat- 
aqua River to fish and to trade^ and they hoped to 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 11 

secure an abundant compensation for their labor. 
It was deemed probable that stores of precious 
metals would be found in the mountainous regions 
of New Hampshire ; and stories of beautiful lakes 
and rivers abounding in fish were circulated, and 
received considerable credence. Having their at- 
tention turned at first to such objects, they neglect- 
ed agriculture ; and the growth of the settlements 
was consequently slow for a number of years. A 
number of townships were afterwards granted by 
Massachusetts, within the borders of New Hamp- 
shire, but were afterwards given up to the latter 
state. Among these were Hopkinton, Charlestown, 
Hinsdale, &c. Epsom, N. H., was chartered in 
1727, and settled from the neighborhood of Dover. 
Hence Mrs. Isabella M'Coy was carried captive in 
1747. Hollis was settled in 1731 by Captain Peter 
Power!?. The interesting story of " the Boar and 
the Bear " is related of him. 

In Vermont, the first settlement was made by the 
whites in 1724. The government of Massachusetts 
in that year erected Fort Dummer, near what is 
now Brattleboro'. Soon after, Startwell's and 
Bridgeman's forts were built a little below, in the 
present town of Yernon, Yt. It was at the latter 
that the tragical event occurred which is described 
in the narrative of the captivity of Mrs. Howe. 
These forts were formerly included in the township 
of Hinsdale, New Hampshire, but were given up to 
Yermont when the two states separated. After the 
establishment of Fort Dummer, the settlement of 



12 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

the Connecticut valley went on rapidly. The first 
settlement by the English on the west side of the 
Green Mountains was made at Bennington in 1761, 
although a charter had been granted for the town 
in 1749 by Benning Wentworth, governor of New 
Hampshire. The French had located themselves on 
the banks of Lake Champlain, opposite to Crown 
Point, but evacuated both places when General 
Amherst captured Ticonderoga in 1759. The 
Abenaqui or St. Francis tribe of Indians were the 
greatest and most powerful enemies the English had 
among the denizens of the forest. These were scat- 
tered all along the northern part of New Hamp- 
shire and Vermont, and throughout Maine. This 
was the tribe that espoused most strongly the cause 
of the French in their wars against the colonists. 
From first to last, they were the cause of a vast 
deal of bloodshed and misery to our ancestors. A 
portion of the tribe is still existing in Canada ; 
but while the descendants of the English have con- 
stantly gone forward in wealth and prosperity, and 
in all the arts of civilization and refinement, these 
down-trodden sons of the wilderness have sunk 
lower and lower, until they are hardly the shadows 
even of what they once were. While we drop the 
tear of pity over the sufferings of our fathers, let 
us not fail generously to commiserate the wretched 
condition of those who caused these sufferings. 
Parcete vicfis. 



\ 



THE RED MAN'S STRATAGEM. 

AN INCIDENT IN THE EARLY HISTORY OF COCHECO. 
1666. 

The early settlers of Coclieco were exposed at 
all times to the relentless hostility of the Indians. 
No precautions could circumvent their stratagems. 
They came at all times and in all seasons, with the 
tomahawk in one hand and the torch in the other, 
to massacre and destroy. The traveller was cut 
down on his journey, the husbandman was butchered 
in his field, the women and children were assaulted 
at the fireside, and consigned to an ignominious 
death, or a captivity worse than death. 

In the summer of 1666, a band of savages made a 
descent upon the infant settlement. Their approach 
having, on this occasion, been observed, time was 
afforded for such of the inhabitants as could not do 
good service at bush fighting, to retreat to the block- 
houses or garrisons. The women and children were 
hurriedly gathered within the palisades of their 
defences, while the rifle of the husband and father 
for a moment checked the advances of the enemy. 
There were at this time some half a dozen of these 
block-houses at Cocheco, all of which, with one 
2 (13) 



14 THE RED man's STRATAGEM. 

exception, were successfully defended against this 
assault of the savages. The manner in which this 
one was captured shows at once the wily character 
of the enemy against which our fathers had to guard 
their possessions and their lives, and the persever- 
ance with which that enemy labored to effect their 
machinations. 

The Indians, having been repulsed in their first 
onset upon the settlement, retired, carrying with 
them the bodies of several of their warriors, who 
had been shot down in the fight. Two or three of 
the white men had also been killed. Their bodies 
were also dragged off, and, having been scalped and 
otherwise horribly mutilated, were left as a prey to 
the beasts of the field ; while the remains of the 
Indian braves who had fallen were interred with all 
the forms and ceremonies of their race. The in- 
habitants of Cocheco were congratulating them- 
selves upon their successful escape from the enemy. 
Some of their little band, it was true, had fallen — 
some, too, whom they could but illy spare. Their 
voices hereafter would be missed in the council, and 
their arms in the fight. But such things were of 
common occurrence, and the cares of a precarious 
existence left little time for mourning to the living. 

The Indians, though repulsed, had not abandoned 
their designs upon Cocheco. They retired only to 
devise new, and, as they hoped, more successful 
stratagems for surprising the white man. For sev- 
eral days the watchfulness of the inhabitants cir- 
cumvented all their machinations, during which they 



THE RED man's STRATAGEM. 15 

did not deem it prudent to show their copper-col- 
ored visages within the range or reach of a rifle shot 
from the block-houses. 

On the fourth day after the first attack they dis- 
covered that one of the block-houses, which was 
built on the margin of the river, could be entered 
on the water side, provided any means could be de- 
vised to reach it unobserved. To proceed to it 
openly in their canoes, and make the attempt, either 
by day or night, was out of the question, as the 
inhabitants kept a strict lookout, and would have 
bored a bullet hole through the head of the first 
Indian that came within their reach. In this block- 
house were four men, with their families, in all about 
twenty. The Indians, having discovered an open- 
ing to the garrison, were not long in devising a 
way to enter it. 

About half a mile above the settlement was a 
mowing field, the grass of which had been cut and 
made into cocks by some of the Cocheco men, the 
day before the descent of the Indians upon them. 
It was ready for the barn, and as soon as the Indians 
should retire, it was the intention of the owners to 
cart it in. Early in the morning of the fourth day, 
however, they discovered that the enemy, having 
exhausted every other means of annoying them, 
were about to commence an assault with and under 
cover of the hay. Having procured a cart belong- 
ing to the settlement, which they had found within 
their reach, they placed a large quantity of the 
hay upon it, and having dragged it within a short 



16 

distance of the garrison, set it on fire, and, under 
cover of the burning mass, attempted to back it up 
to and burn with it the garrison. 

Previous to this, however, they had, as it seemed, 
in mere wantonness, set some fifteen or twenty cocks 
of the hay adrift in the river, which were floating 
slowly down towards the garrison. The besieged 
had observed this movement, but, suspecting noth- 
ing, directed their attention exclusively to the dan- 
ger which was pressing upon them on the other side 
of the garrison. The cart, with its contents in a 
mass of flames, was coming down upon them. The 
men of the garrison stationed themselves at the loop- 
holes, with their guns, to pick off as many of the 
enemy, as they approached, as they could reach ; 
while the women and children brought up water 
from the river, which they obtained through the 
door which the Indians had previously discovered, 
to extinguish the flames. 

The burning hay had reached the garrison, and 
was sending its lurid flames far above the walls ; 
yet, as the house was built of unhewn logs, massive 
and strong, the fire made but little impression upon 
it. More than one Indian who had assisted in push- 
ing down the cart had paid for his temerity with 
his life ; the muskets of the besieged kept them at 
bay, or cut them down, as they exposed themselves ; 
and the fire from the hay would have been extin- 
guished, and the garrison successfully defended, had 
it not been carried in another quarter. 

While the inmates of the garrison were thus de- 



17 

fending themselves from the attack on the land side, 
the hay in the river had floated down opposite the 
garrison, having gradually drawn towards the shore 
as it approached ; and as the besieged, having driven 
the Indians from the cover of the burning hay, were 
employed in extinguishing it, a dozen savages sprang 
upon them, as it were, from the bosom of the river, 
entering the garrison from the water side. Each 
hay cock had concealed the head of an Indian, as 
he swam down the river beneath it ! 

The inmates of the garrison who escaped the 
tomahawk, with the exception of some half a dozen 
who succeeded in reaching one of the neighboring 
houses, were carried off as captives into Canada. 
Some of the more feeble died on the journey, and 
were left by the wayside ; others lived to return, 
after years of hardship and suffering, to their 
friends. 

2* 



DEATH OF MAJOR WALDRON. 

DO^^R, N. H., JUNE 27, 1689. 

In August, 1676, King Philip was slain. Some 
of his followers took refuge among the Penacooks, 
others with the eastern Indians — the Ossipees and 
Pequawketts. Hostilities were renewed through the 
influence of these refugees, and at length two com- 
panies of soldiers were sent from Boston to Dover. 
Here they found a large number of Indians at the 
house of Major Waldron, whom they regarded as 
their friend and father. The Boston companies had 
orders to seize all Indians who had been engaged 
in King Philip's war, and, recognizing such among 
the number, would have fallen upon them at once 
had they not been dissuaded by Major Waldron, 
who proposed to have a training and sham fight the 
next day, in order to take them by stratagem. This 
having been done, they were all seized and disarmed. 
A separation was then made ; the Penacooks and 
those who had made peace the autumn before were 
set at liberty ; while the refugees — the strange In- 
dians, as they were called — were retained as pris- 
oners to the number of two hundred. Seven or 

eight, who were convicted of having killed Eug- 

ri8) 



DEATH OF MAJOR WALDRON. 19 

lishmen, were executed. The rest were sold into 
slavery in foreign parts. 

Thirteen years passed since the seizure of the In- 
dians at Dover ; but they still remembered it, and 
longed for vengeance. Some of those who had 
been sold into slavery had returned to excite their 
brethren, and they soon broke out in hostilities. 

On the evening of the 27th of June, 1689, two 
squaws applied at each of the garrisoned houses in 
Dover for lodging. The people, fearing no danger, 
readily admitted them. Mesandowit, one of the 
chiefs, was entertained at Major Waldron's. " Broth- 
er Wcddron,^^ said he, with his usual familiarity, while 
they were at supper, " what would you do if the strange 
Indians should come V "I can assemble a hundred 
men,^^ was the reply, " hy lifting up my finger.''^ With 
this fatal confidence they retired to rest. When all 
was quiet, those within opened the gates and gave 
the signal. The savages rushed in and began their 
bloody work. Waldron, though eighty years of 
age, seized his sword and drove the assailants back 
through two doors, but when returning for his other 
arms, was stunned with a hatchet, and fell. They 
then dragged him into his hall, seated him in an 
elbow chair upon a long table, and insultingly asked, 
" Who shall judge Indian now ? " After feasting 
upon provisions which they compelled the rest of 
the family to procure, each one with a knife cut 
gashes in Waldron's breast, saying, " / cross out my 
account ! " They then cut off his nose and ears, and 
forced them into his mouth ; and when, weakened 



20 DEATH OP MAJOR WALDRON. 

from tho loss of blood, he was about to fall from 
the table, his own sword was held under him, which 
put an end to his tortures. At other houses, similar 
acts of cruelty were perpetrated, and in the whole, 
twenty-three persons were killed, and twenty-nine 
carried prisoners to Canada, who were shortly sold 
to the French. Many houses were burned, and 
much .property was plundered ; but so expeditious 
were the Indians, that they had fled beyond reach 
before the neighboring people could be collected. 



THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF 
MISS SARAH GERISH, 

WHO WAS TAKEN AT THE SACKING OF DOi-ER, IN 1689, BY THE 
INDIANS, AS COMMUNICATED TO THE REV. DR. COTTON MATHER 
BY THE REV. JOHN PIKE, MINISTER OF DO\TER. 

Sarah Gerish, daughter of Captain John Gerish, 
of Quochecho, or Cocheco, was a very beautiful and 
ingenious damsel, about seven years of age, and hap- 
pened to be lodging at the garrison of Major Wal- 
dron, her affectionate grandfather, when the Indians 
brought that horrible destruction upon it, on the 
night of the 27th of June, 1689. She was always 
yery fearful of the Indians ; but fear, may we think, 
now surprised her when they fiercely bade her go 
into a certain chamber and call the people out. She 
obeyed ; but finding only a little child in bed in the 
room, she got into the bed with it, and hid herself 
in the clothes as well as she could. 

The fell savages quickly pulled her out, and made 
her dress for a march, but led her away with no 
more than one stocking upon her, on a terrible 
march through the thick woods, and a thousand 
other miseries, till they came to the Norway Planes.* 
From thence they made her go to the end of Winni- 

* The " Norway Planes " are in the present town of Rochester, N. H. 

(21) 



22 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

piseogee Lake ; thence eastward, through horrid 
swamps, where sometimes they were obliged to 
scramble over huge trees fallen by storm or age, for 
a vast way together, and sometimes they must climb 
up long, steep, tiresome, and almost inaccessible 
mountains. 

Her first master was an Indian named Sebun- 
dowit, a dull sort of fellow, and not such a devil as 
many of them were ; but he sold her to a fellow 
who was a more harsh and mad sort of a dragon. 
He carried her away to Canada. 

A long and sad journey now ensued, through the 
midst of a hideous desert, in the depth of a dread- 
ful winter. And who can enumerate the frights she 
endured before the end of her journey ! Once her 
master commanded her to loosen some of her upper 
garments, and stand against a tree while he charged 
his gun ; whereat the poor child shrieked out, " He 
is going to kill me ! '^ God knows what he was 
going to do ; but the villain having charged his gun, 
he called her from the tree, and forbore doing her 
any damage. Upon another time, her master or- 
dered her to run along the shore with some Indian 
girls, while he paddled up the river in his canoe. 
As the girls were passing a precipice, a tawny 
wench violently pushed her headlong into the river ; 
but so it fell out that in this very place of her fall 
the bushes from the shore hung over the water, so 
that she was enabled to get hold of them, and thus 
saved herself. The Indians asked her how she be- 
came so wet, but she did not dare to tell them, from 



OF MISS SARAH GERISH. 23 

fear of the resentment of her that had so nearly 
deprived her of life already. And here it may be 
remarked that it is almost universally true that 
young Indians, both male and female, are as much 
to be dreaded by captives as those of maturer years, 
and in many cases much more so ; for, unlike culti- 
vated people, they have no restraint upon their mis- 
chievous and savage propensities, which they indulge 
in cruelties surpassing any examples here related. 
They often vie with each other in attempting exces- 
sive acts of torture. 

Once, being spent with travelling all day, and 
lying down wet and exhausted at night, she fell into 
so profound a sleep that in the morning she waked 
not. Her barbarous captors decamped from the 
place of their night's rest, leaving this little captive 
girl asleep, and covered with a snow that in the night 
had fallen ; but at length awaking, what agonies 
may you imagine she was in on finding herself left 
a prey for bears and wolves, and without any suste- 
tenance, in a howling wilderness, many scores of 
leagues from any plantation ! In this dismal situa- 
tion, however, she had fortitude sufficient to attempt 
to follow them. And here again, the snow which 
had been her covering upon the cold ground, to her 
great discomfort, was now her only hope, for she 
could just discern by it the trace of the Indians. 
How long it was before she overtook them is not 
told us, but she joined them and continued her cap- 
tivity. 

Now the young Indians began to terrify her by 



24 MISS SARAH GERTSH. 

constantly reminding her that she was shortly to be 
roasted to death. One evening much fuel was prepared 
between two logs, which they told her was for her 
torture. A mighty fire being made, her master called 
her to him, and told her that she should presently be 
burnt alive. At first she stood amazed ; then burst 
into tears ; and then she hung about her tiger of a 
master, begging of him, with an inexpressible an- 
guish, to save her from the fire. Thereupon the 
monster so far relented as to tell her " that if she 
would be a good girl she should not be burnt." 

At last they arrived at Canada, and she was car- 
ried to the Lord Intendant's house, where many per- 
sons of quality took much notice of her. It was a 
week after this that she remained in the Indians' 
hands before the price of her ransom could be agreed 
upon. But then the Lady Intendant sent her to the 
nunnery, where she was comfortably provided for ; 
and it was the design, as was said, for to have 
brought her up in the Romish religion, and then 
to have married her unto the son of the Lord In- 
tendant. 

She was kindly used there, until Sir William 
Phipps, lying before Quebec, did, upon exchange of 
prisoners, obtain her liberty. After sixteen months' 
captivity, she was restored unto her friends, who 
had the consolation of having this their desirable 
daughter again with them, returned as it were from 
the dead. But this dear child was not to cheer her 
parents' path for a long period ; for, on arriving at 
her sixteenth year, July, 1697, death carried her off 
by a malignant fever. 



THREE NARRATIVES 

OF EXCESSIVE DISTRESS OF PERSONS TAKEN AT THE DESTRUC- 
TION OF SALMON FALLS, IN THE STATE OF NE^^ HAMPSHIRE, 
ON THE 27tH of MAI.CH, 1690 ; "STZ., THE CRUEL TORTURE OF 
ROBERT ROGERS, THE FR^ YEARS' CAPTIVITY OF MEHETABLE 
GOODWIN, AND THE FORTU^NATE ESCAPE OF THOMAS TOOGOOD. 

[From the Magnalia Christi Americana of Dr, Cotton Mather.] 

When the news of the destruction of Schenectady 
reached New England, it spread great alarm over 
the whole country. The wise men gave particular 
caution to all the frontier posts, urging them to 
keep strict watch, and to make strong their fortifi- 
cations ; but the people in the east did not their 
duty, and Salmon Falls, a fine settlement upon a 
branch of Pascataqua River, fell into the hands of 
an infuriated and cruel enemy. 

But, as has been observed, notwithstanding these 
warnings, the people dreamed that while the deep 
snow of the winter continued, they were safe enough, 
which proved as vain as a dream of a dry summer. 
Near thirty persons were slain, and more than fifty 
were led into what the reader will by and by call 
the worst captivity in the world. It would be a 
long story to tell what a particular share in this 

.3 (25) 



26 THREE NARRATIVES. 

calamity fell to the lot of the family of one Clem- 
ent Short. This honest man, with his pious wife 
and three children, were killed, and six or seven 
others of their children were made prisoners. The 
most of these arrived safe at Canada, through a 
thousand hardships ; and the most of these were, 
with more than a thousand mercies, afterwards 
redeemed from Canada, and returned unto their 
English friends again. But, as we cannot take 
notice of all the individuals, we will pass to the 
notice of those named at the commencement of this 
narrative. 

Among the prisoners was one Eobert Eogers, 
with whom, as the Indians journeyed, they came to 
a hill, where this man, (being, through his corpu- 
lency, called Eobin Pork,) being under such an intol- 
erable and unsupportable burden of Indian luggage, 
was not so able to travel as the rest ; he therefore, 
watching for an opportunity, made his escape. The 
wretches, missing him, immediately went in pursuit 
of him, and it was not long before they found his 
burden cast in the way, and the tracks of his feet 
going out of the way. This they followed, and 
found him hid in a hollow tree. They dragged him 
out, stripped him, beat and pricked him, pushed him 
forward with the points of their swords, until they 
got back to the hill from whence he had escaped. 
It being almost night, they fastened him to a tree, 
with his hands behind him, then made themselves a 
supper, singing and dancing around him, roaring, 
and uttering great and many signs of joy, but with 



THREE NARRATIVES. 2t 

joy little enough to the poor creature, who foresaw 
what all this tended to. 

The Indians next cut a parcel of wood, and bring- 
ing it into a plain place, they cut off the top of a 
small red oak tree, leaving the trunk for a stake, 
whereunto they bound their sacrifice. They first 
made a great fire near this tree of death, and bring- 
ing Rogers unto it, bid him take his leave of his 
friends, which he did in a doleful manner, such as 
no pen, though made of a harpy's quill, were able 
to describe the dolor of it. They then allowed him 
a little time to make his prayers unto Heaven, which 
he did with an extreme fervency and agony ; where- 
upon they bound him to the stake, and brought the 
rest of the prisoners, with their arms tied each to 
the other, and seated them round the fire. This 
being done, they went behind the fire, and thrust it 
forwards upon the man, with much laughter and 
shouting ; and when the fire had burnt some time 
upon him, even till he was almost suffocated, they 
pulled it away from him, to prolong his existence. 

They now resumed their dancing around him, and 
at every turn they did with their knives cut collops 
of his flesh out of his naked limbs, and throw them 
with his blood into his face. In this manner was 
their work continued, until he expired. 

Being now dead, they set his body down upon the 
glowing coals of fire, and thus left him tied with his 
back to the stake, where he was found by some Eng- 
lish forces soon after, who were in pursuit of these 
Indians. 



28 THREE NARRATIVES. 

Mehetable Goodwin, another of the captives 
of this band of Indians, who, it will be proper to 
notice, were led by the renowned Indian chief 
Hopehood, had a child with her about five months 
old. This, through hunger and hardship, she being 
unable to nourish from her breast, occasioned it to 
make grievous and distressing ejaculations. Her 
Indian master told her that if the child were not 
quiet, he would soon dispose of it, which caused her 
to use all possible means that his netopship^ might 
not be offended ; and sometimes she would carry it 
from the fire out of his hearing, when she would sit 
down up to her waist in the snow for several hours 
together, until it was exhausted and lulled to sleep. 
She thus for several days preserved the life of her 
babe, until he saw cause to travel with his own cubs 
farther afield ; and then, lest he should be retarded 
in his travel, he violently snatched the babe out of 
its mother's arms, and before her face knocked out 
its brains ; and having stripped it of its few rags it 
had hitherto enjoyed, ordered the mother to go 
wash them of the blood wherewith they were 
stained I Returning from this sad and melancholy 
task, she found the infant hanging by the neck in 
a forked bough of a tree. She requested liberty 
to lay it in the earth, but the savage said, " It is 
better as it is, for now the wild beasts cannot come 
at it ; and you may have the comfort of seeing it 
again if ever you come that v^^ay." 

* Netop is the Indian word for friend. 



THREE NARRATIVES. 29 

The journey now before them was like to be very 
long — as far as Canada, where Mrs, Goodwin's 
master's purpose was to make merchandise of her, 
and glad was she to hear such happy tidings. But 
the desperate length of the way, and want of food, 
and grief of mind, wherewith she was now encoun- 
tered, caused her within a few days to faint under 
her difficulties ; when, at length, she sat down for 
some repose, with many prayers and tears unto God 
for the salvation of her soul, she found herself un- 
able to rise, until she saw her furious executioner 
coming towards her, with fire in his eyes, the devil 
in his heart, and his hatchet in his hand, ready to 
bestow a mercy stroke of death upon her. Then it 
was that this poor captive woman, in this extreme 
misery, got upon her knees, and, with weeping and 
wailing, and all expressions of agony and entreaty, 
prevailed on him to spare her life a little longer, 
and she did not question but God would enable her 
to walk a little faster. The merciless tyrant was 
prevailed with to spare her this time ; nevertheless, 
her former weakness quickly returning upon her, he 
was just going to murder her, when a couple of In- 
dians, just at this moment coming in, called suddenly 
upon him to hold his hand. At this such a horror 
surprised his guilty soul that he ran away from her ; 
but hearing them call his name, he returned, and 
then permitted these his friends to ransom his pris- 
oner. 

After these events, as the party were seated by the 
side of a river, they heard several guns go off on 
3* 



30 THREE NARRATIVES. 

the opposite side, which the Indians concluded was 
occasioned by a party of Albany Indians, who were 
their enemies ; whereupon this bold blade (her old 
master) would needs go in a canoe to discover what 
they were. They fired upon and shot him through, 
together with several of his friends, before the dis- 
covery could be made. Some days after this, divers 
of his friends gathered a party to revenge his death 
on their supposed enemies. With these they soon 
joined battle, and after several hours' hard fighting, 
were themselves put to the rout. Among the cap- 
tives which they left in their flight was this poor 
woman, who was overjoyed, supposing herself now 
at liberty ; but her joy did not last long, for these 
Indians were of the same sort as the others, and had 
been by their own friends thus, through a strange 
mistake, set upon. 

However, this crew proved more favorable to her 
than the former, and went away silently with their 
booty, being loath to have any noise made of their 
foul mistake. And yet a few days after, such another 
mistake happened ; for meeting with another party 
of Indians which they imagined were in the English 
interest, they also furiously engaged each other, and 
many were killed and wounded on both sides ; but 
the conquerors proved to be a party of French In- 
dians this time, who took this poor Mrs. Goodwin, 
and presented her to the French captain of the 
party, by whom she was carried to Canada, where 
she continued five years, after which she was brought 
safely back to New England. 



THREE NARRATIVES. 31 

Thomas Toogood's short narrative is introduced 
to relieve the reader from the contemplation of 
blood and misery. At the same time the other cap- 
tives were taken, three Indians hotly pursued this 
man, and one of them overtaking him, while the 
rest perceiving it, staid behind the hill, having 
seen him quietly yield himself a prisoner. While 
the Indian was getting out his strings to bind his 
prisoner, he held his gun under his arm, which Too- 
good observing, suddenly sprang and wrested it 
from him ; and momentarily presenting it at the 
Indian, protested that he would shoot him down if 
he made the least noise. And so away he ran with 
it unto Quochecho. If my reader be now inclined 
to smile, when he thinks how simply poor Isgrim 
looked,* returning to his mates behind the hill, 
without either gun or prey, or any thing but strings, 
to remind him of his own deserts, I am sure his 
brethren felt not less so, for they derided him with 
ridicule at his misadventure. The Indians are sin- 
gularly excessive in the practice of sporting at the 
misfortunes of one another in any case they are 
outwitted, or have been guilty of committing any 
blunder. 

* The only retaliation the baffled savage was able to make upon 
Toogood was to cry out Nogood, Nogood, as his intended victim disap- 
peared. 



LOYEWELL'S FIGHT. 

a ballad. n. h. historical collections. 

April 18, 1725. 

" The story of Lovewell's Fight," says the North 
American Review, " is one of the nursery tales of 
New Hampshire. There is hardly a person that 
lives in the eastern and northern part of the state 
but has heard incidents of that fearful encounter 
repeated from infancy. It was on the 18th of April, 
1725, that Captain John Lovewell, of Dunstable, 
Massachusetts, with thirty-four men, fought a famous 
Indian chief, named Paugus, at the head of about 
eighty savages, near the shores of a pond in Pe- 
quawkett.^ Lovewell's men were determined to 
conquer or die, although outnumbered by the In- 
dians more than one half. They fought till Love- 
well and Paugus were killed, and all Lovewell's 
men but nine were either killed or wounded dan- 
gerously. The savages having lost, as was supposed, 
sixty of their number out of eighty, and being con- 
vinced of the fierce and determined resolution of 



* The Indian name of a considerable tract of country including Con- 
way, N. H., Fryeburg, Me., and the adjacent towns. 

(32) 



lovewell's fight. 33 

their foes, at length retreated and left them masters 
of the ground. The scene of this desperate and 
bloody action, which took place in the town which 
is now called Fryeburg, is often visited with interest 
to this day, and the names of those who fell, and 
those who survived, are yet repeated with emotions 
of grateful exultation." 

What time the noble Lovewell came, 

With fifty men from Dunstable, 
The cruel Pequa'tt tribe to tame, 

With arms and bloodshed terrible. 

Then did the crimson streams, that flowed, 
Seem like the waters of the brook, 

That brightly shine, that loudly dash 
Far down the cliffs of Agiochook. 

With Lovewell brave, John Harwood came ; 

From wife and babes 'twas hard to part ; 
Young Harwood took her by the hand, 

And bound the weeper to his heart. 

" Repress that tear, my Mary dear," 
Said Harwood to his loving wife ; 

" It tries me hard to leave thee here. 
And seek in distant woods the strife. 

" When gone, ray Mary, think of me, 

And pray to God that I may be 
Such as one ought that lives for thee. 

And come at last in victorv." 



34 lovewell's fight. 

Thus left young Harwood babe and wife ; 

With accent wild, she bade adieu ; 
It grieved those lovers much to part, 

So fond and fair, so kind and true. 

Seth Wyman,^ who in Woburn lived, 

(A marksman he of courage true,) 
Shot the first Indian whom they saw ; 

Sheer through his heart the bullet flew. 

The savage had been seeking game ; 

Two guns and eke a knife he bore^ 
And two black ducks were in his hand ; 

He shrieked, and fell, to rise no more.f 

Anon, there eighty Indians rose, 

Who'd hid themselves in ambush dread ; 
^ Their knives they shook, their guns they aimed, 
The famous Paugus at their head. 

Good heavens ! they dance the powwow dance ; 

What horrid yells the forest fill ! 
The grim bear crouches in his den, 

The eagle seeks the distant hill. 

* He was Lovewell's lieutenant. He distinguished himself in such 
a signal manner that, after his return, he was presented with a silver- 
hilted sword and a captain's commission. 

t This Indian was no doubt placed there as a decoy. Suspecting 
this, the men concealed their packs and advanced with great caution. 
Meantime Paugus and Wahwa, with two parties of Indians, followed 
their trail till they found the packs. About these they placed them- 
selves in ambush, and when the Englishmen returned, rose and com- 
menced the attack. 



35 

" What means this dance, this powwow dance ? " 
Stern Wyman said ; with wondrous art 

He crept full near, his rifle aimed, 

And shot the leader through the heart. 

John Lovewell, captain of the band, 

His sword he waved, that glittered bright, 

For the last time he cheered his men, 
And led them onward to the fight. 

" Fight on, fight on," brave Lovewell said ; 

" Fight on, while Heaven shall give you breath I " 
An Indian ball then pierced him through, 

And Lovewell closed his eyes in death. 

John Harwood died all bathed in blood. 
When he had fought till set of day I 

And many more we may not name 
Fell in that bloody battle fray. 

When news did come to Harwood's wife, 
That he with Lovewell fought and died, 

Far in the wilds had given his life, 

Nor more would in their home abide, — 

Such grief did seize upon her mind, 
Such sorrow filled her faithful breast, 

On earth she ne'er found peace again, 
But followed Harwood to his rest. 

^Twas Paugus led the Pequa'tt tribe ; 
As runs the fox would Paugus run ; 



3t) 

As howls the wild wolf would he howl ; 
A large bear skin had Paugus on. 

But Chamberlain, of Dunstable, 

(One whom a savage ne'er shall slay,) 

Met Paugus by the water side, 

And shot him dead upon that day.* 

Good heavens ! is this a time for prayer ? 

Is this a time to worship God ? 
When LovewelFs men are dying fast. 

And Paugus' tribe hath felt the rod ? 

The chaplain's name was Jonathan Frye ; 
In Andover his father dwelt, 
♦ And oft with Lovewell's men he'd prayed. 
Before the mortal wound he felt. 

* The death of this celebrated Indian happened in this manner: 
Paugus and Chamberlain had been foes, and had met in bloody fray 
before the present battle. Towards the close of the day the guns of 
each had become foul from constant firing, and they came at the same 
time to the water's edge for the purpose of washing them. Paugus 
was up stream and Chamberlain below. They immediately recognized 
each other. " Now, Paugus," said Chamberlain, *' it is you or I." 
*' Yes," answered the warrior, *' it is you or I." Both then sprang to 
the water, and commenced cleaning their pieces. Each strained every 
nerve, conscious that to be last would be death. Almost with the 
rapidity of lightning the guns were washed out and dried. They be- 
gan loading at the same instant. The muskets were primed, the 
powder rammed home, the bullets thrown into the muzzles, and who 
could tell the issue ! But now appeared the advantage of Chamber- 
lain's position. Paugus, standing above Chamberlain, was obliged to 
follow his ball with a wad, to prevent its rolling out. Chamberlain 
dropped the ball down the muzzle of his piece, his eye glanced along 
the barrel, and with a yell the Indian chief leaped into the air and fell 
headlong into the brook. 



LEAP. 61 

small circuit, effected a landing in safety. Many 
an Indian's life verified his last threat, and Pea- 
body lived to a good old age, having often related 
to his friends and neighbors the adventure which 
gave to this place the name of " Peabody's Leap." 
6 



KILBURN'S DEFENCE. 



1755. 

The first civilized inhabitant of the present town 
of Walpole, N. H., was John Kilburn, who settled 
there in 1749. The large and fertile meadows at 
the mouth of Cold River, in that township, slightly 
covered with tall butternut and ancient elm trees, 
presented an inviting prospect to new colonists, and 
an easy harvest to the hand of cultivation. Just 
above them, along the east bank of the Connecticut, 
was the defile, bounded by steep mountains, which 
formed the Indian highway to and from Charles- 
town, the next township. There, too, was the head 
of shad navigation, the great fishing ground of the 
savages from time immemorial. Next below this 
narrow pass by the river, and nearer the meadows, 
is the site of an ancient Indian village, since occu- 
pied by a tavern. Next on the south, and bounding 
the meadows northerly, was Cold River, a small 
branch of the main stream, overshadowed with tall 
maples and elms. The meadows themselves were 
about half a mile in extent ; the Connecticut was 
on the western side, and a semicircle of woods on 

(62) 



kilburn's defence. 63 

the east, with a central round eminence forty feet 
high, from which issues at this day a medicinal spring. 
It was here the adventurous and hardy Kilburn built 
himself a log hut, and here he inhabited the solitude 
of the forest for two years, without any intercourse 
with friend or foe. 

During this time his life was one continued scene 
of danger and hardship. He sought opportunities 
to cultivate the friendship of the Indians, who 
roamed and prowled in the woods around him ; but 
in this attempt he was wholly unsuccessful. They 
avoided him studiously in the daytime, and in the 
night he soon found that they approached his hum- 
ble habitation only for the purpose of dealing him 
the deadly blow. He was finally obliged, in conse- 
quence of this state of things, to adopt the plan of 
" camping out " at different places in the woods each 
night, with nothing but the cold earth for his bed, a 
bear skin for his covering, and a cartridge box for 
his pillow. In this manner he continued to elude 
the scalping knife of his lurking enemies, though 
they not unfrequently visited and plundered his hut 
in his absence. 

In 1751 Colonel Benjamin Bellows obtained the 
charter of Walpole, and began a small settlement on 
a spot occupied to this day by the buildings of a gen- 
tleman of the same name, above a mile south from 
the establishment of Kilburn. There was at this 
time a fort also in the neighboring township of 
Number Four, now called Charlestown. These ad- 
ditions to the power of the whites in this quainter 



64 

had an essential influence upon the respect and the 
fear felt for them by the Indians ; nor was it long 
before a company of them descended the river in 
their canoes, landed over the falls, and invited their 
old acquaintance, Kilburn, to trade with them. He 
accepted the invitation without scruple or hesitancy, 
visited their encampment, bought furs of them, made 
them presents of flints, flour, and fish hooks. From 
this time they continued to hunt, fish, and lodge oc- 
casionally in the neighborhood. The report of the 
guns with which the whites had furnished them long 
ere this, and the smoke of their low wigwams among 
the trees, became mingled with the familiar occur- 
rences of daily life. 

The affairs of the settlers continued to prosper 
until 1753, when this alarming event occurred to 
disturb their security. Two men, by the name of 
Twitchell and Flint, who had gone back to the hills, 
about a mile east of the settlement, to procure some 
ash timber for oars, were fired upon and killed by 
the Indians. One of them was scalped. The other 
they barbarously cut open, took out his heart, yet 
warm, cut it in pieces, laid it upon his breast, and 
thus left him to be found by his friends. This mas- 
sacre was among the first appearances of a rupture 
of the negotiations for peace pending between Eng- 
land and France, and was the commencement of a 
new and long series of Indian ravages. It was, 
moreover, the first Christian blood that was spilt in 
"Walpole, and the impression it produced on the 
minds of the settlers was proportionately deep and 



kilburn's defence. 65 

lasting. The bodies of the murdered men were 
buried near where they were found, in a* spot still 
indicated by a ridge of land, on the west side of the 
road, about two miles north of Walpole village. It 
is believed by the friends of Twitchell — at least 
by some of the number — that his guardian spirit 
continued, as long as his savage murderers lived, to 
hover over them by night and by day, and to warn 
them of the wiles of the Indians. Even a rock in 
Connecticut River, where he used to fish with never- 
failing success, was a long time held in religious 
veneration ; and few, it is rumored, of all those who 
to this day go to angle from " Twitchell Rock," re- 
turn without taking from the stream a most gener- 
ous fry. 

In the spring of 1755, an Indian by the name of 
Philip, who had just learned English enough to be 
understood, visited Kilburn's log house, under the 
pretence of being on a hunting excursion and in want 
of provisions. He was treated with kindness, and. 
furnished liberally with flints, meal, and various 
other articles which he asked for. Soon after his 
departure it was ascertained that the same Indian 
had visited all the settlements on the Connecticut 
River, with the same plausible story. The conclu- 
sion was with Kilburn and his fellow-settlers that 
Philip was a scout employed by the enemy. This 
suspicion was soon after confirmed by intelligence 
received at all the forts on the frontiers, through a 
friendly Indian, from Governor Shirley at Albany. 
He stated that four or five hundred o£ the savages 



66 kilburn's defence. 

were collected in Canada, whose object was to 
butcher the whole white population on Connecticut 
River. 

The settlers — and those of Walpole among the 
number — were startled by these tidings ; but they 
were not disheartened. They valued their hard- 
earned harvest and their solitary homes in the wil- 
derness, humble as they were, too highly to leave 
them from the mere apprehensions of danger. They 
had been accustomed, too, to all the hardships of a 
rude life ; and long had they looked for the time to 
come, as it came now, when they must defend them- 
selves, or die in the cause. 

Kilburn and his comrades now fortified their hab- 
itations round about by a palisade of stakes, with 
such preparations of the same nature as their means 
allowed. On these alone they depended for safety, 
the next garrison (a fort of forty men) being a mile 
distant from the settlement of Colonel Bellows. 
Measures thus prudently being taken, nothing re- 
mained but to wait for the onset of the enemy. Nor 
had they to wait long. On the 17th of August, 
1755, Kilburn and his son, in his eighteenth year, 
and a man by the name of Peak, with his son, were 
returning from work about noon, when one of them 
suddenly discovered the red legs of Indians among 
the alders that skirted the meadows, as thick, in his 
own language, '' as grasshoppers." They instantly 
fled to the house, fastened the door, and began to 
make preparations for an obstinate defence. In 
this they were assisted as well as encouraged by 



kilbubn's defiance. 67 

Kilburn's wife, and his daughter Hitty, whose par- 
ticular charge, however, was to watch the move- 
ments of the enemy. 

In fifteen minutes the latter were seen crawling 
upon the bank east of the house, and as they crossed 
the footpath one by one, one hundred and ninety- 
seven were counted. About the same number re- 
mained in ambush near the mouth of Cold River. 
The object of this party was to waylay Colonel Bel- 
lows and his men, whom they knew to be working 
at his mill about a mile east. Before a great while 
accordingly these people came along, each with a 
bag of meal on his back. Presently their dogs be- 
gan to growl, and to betray other symptoms of hav- 
ing discovered or suspected an enemy. All this 
Bellows understood perfectly well ; nor was he at a 
loss in forming his opinion as to the state of the 
case. He had no doubt the Indians were close at 
hand in ambush, and he took his measures accord- 
ingly. He ordered all his men, about thirty, to 
throw down their meal, and advance to the rising 
ground just above them, carefully crawl up the bank, 
spring upon their feet, give one shout, and instantly 
drop down among the tall fern, which in that place 
covered the ground. 

The manoeuvre succeeded ; for as soon as the shout 
was heard, the Indians all rose in a semicircle round 
the path Bellows was to pursue. This gave the 
party a fine chance for a fair shot, and they im- 
proved it promptly by a general discharge, which 
so disconcerted the plans of the Indians that they 



68 



darted away into the bushes without firing a gun. 
Bellows found, however, that their party was too 
numerous for his, and he ordered his men to file off 
to the south, and make for the fort. Not long after 
these Indians came out on the eminence east of Kil- 
burn's house. Here the " Old Devil " Philip, as he 
was now generally called, — being the same wily 
savage who had visited Kilburn's house the season 
previous, — came forward, securing himself behind 
a large tree, and called out loudly to those in the 
house to surrender. " Old John, young John!^ he 
cried, " / know you ; come out here ; we give good 
quarter y " Quarter ! " shouted Kilburn from the 
house, with a tremendous voice, that thrilled through 
every Indian heart, " quarter, you black rascals ! he- 
gone, or we will quarter you ! " 

Thus disappointed in his application, Philip re- 
turned to the main body of his companions. After 
a few minutes' consultation, the Indian war whoop 
was raised, as if, in Kilburn's language, " all the devils 
had been let loosed' Kilburn was nothing daunted by 
this performance, however, and he even managed to 
get the first fire, before the smoke of his enemies' 
guns obstructed his aim. He was confident that this 
discharge brought down an Indian, who, from his ex- 
traordinary size, and other circumstances, appeared 
to be Philip. A moment after the companions of 
the fallen savage, now mustered in full force, rushed 
forward to the work of destruction ; and probably 
not fewer than four hundred bullets were lodged in 
Kilburn's house at the first fire. The roof especially 



69 

was made a perfect "riddle sieve." This leaden 
shower was kept up for some time, with an incessant 
blaze and clamor, while detachments of the enemy 
were amusing themselves with butchering the stray 
cattle, and destroying the hay and grain, in the sur- 
rounding meadow. 

Kilburn and his men, meanwhile, were by no 
means idle. The powder was already poured out 
into hats, for the convenience of loading in a hurry, 
and every thing prepared for a spirited defence or 
a glorious death. They had several guns in the 
house, all of which were kept hot by incessant firing 
through the port-holes. As they had no ammunition 
to spare, each one took special aim, to have every 
bullet tell. The women assisted in loading the guns. 
When the stock of lead grew scanty, they had also 
the presence of mind to suspend blankets horizon- 
tally near the roof of the house, inside, to catch the 
enemy's balls. These they immediately run into new 
bullets, if necessary, which the men took upon them- 
selves to have returned to the savages with interest. 

They made several attempts to burst open the 
doors of the house ; but the fire of the brave little 
garrison was too hot for them. Most of the time, 
therefore, they endeavored to keep behind stumps, 
logs, and trees, evidently showing by this manage- 
ment that they began to feel the force of the remark 
made to them by Kilburn, as we have seen, at the 
onset. An incessant firing, however, was kept up on 
their part until near sundown. Then they gradu- 
ally retreated ; and when the sun sank behind the 



70 kilburn's defence. 

western hills, the sound of their guns and the cry 
of the war whoop died away in silence. How many 
of the enemy fell on this occasion never was ascer- 
tained. Of the little garrison, Peak only was 
wounded in the hip, by exposing himself too much 
before a port-hole ; and, for want of surgical aid, 
this proved fatal on the sixth day. The French and 
Indian war continued until 1763 ; but the village 
of Walpole was not afterwards molested in any 
instance by the enemy. 

Kilburn was as upright and worthy as he was 
brave, and lived to see that town populous and 
flourishing, and his fourth generation upon the 
stage. A plain, unpolished stone points out the 
spot in the burying ground of the village where 
sleep his mortal remains, under this inscription : — 

In memory of 

John Kilbmn, who departed 

this life for a better, April 8th, 1789, in 

the 85th year of his age. He was 

the first settler of this town, 

in 1749. 

His son, "young John," revisited this scene of 
his youthful exploits for the last time in 1814. He 
died in 1822, among his children at Shrewsbury, 
Vermont. 



INDIAN BRIDGE. 

FEOM THE HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

1753. 

In the fall of the year 1753, Sabatis and Plausa- 
wa, two Indians, were at the place where Deacon 
Sawyer now lives, in Canterbury. There Joshua 
Noyes and Thomas Thorla, from Newbury, who were 
looking after cattle which had been turned into the 
woods the spring before, met them. Plausawa had 
been several times at Newbury, and knew Noyes 
and Thorla, and they knew him. The Indians ap- 
peared not much pleased at seeing them, and began 
to put their baggage into their canoe, and to pre- 
pare to go away. Sabatis appeared sullen, and dis- 
posed to do mischief, but was kept from it by Plau- 
sawa. Noyes and Thorla proposed to buy their furs. 
At first they refused to sell, saying they would not 
trade with the English, but would go to Canada. 
Afterwards they offered to sell furs for rum. Those 
men had brought rum on purpose to trade with the 
Indians ; but seeing their temper, especially that of 
Sabatis, they refused to let them have any, and con- 
cluded to go away and leave them. As they were 
departing, Plausawa in a friendly manner advised 

(71) 



72 INDIAN BRIDGE. 

them to go home, and to avoid meeting with the In- 
dians, lest they should be hurt. When they had 
gone a little distance from the Indians, Sabatis called 
them, and said, " No more you English come here ; 
me heart bad — me kill you." Thorla replied, " No 
kill ; English and Indians now all brothers." They 
soon met Peter Bowen going towards the Indians, 
told him in what temper the Indians were, and ad- 
vised him not to go to them, and by no means to let 
them have a drop of rum. He replied that he was 
not afraid of them ; that he was acquainted with 
Indians, and knew how to deal with them. The 
Indians had got into their canoe, and were going up 
the river. Bowen called them, and asked them to 
go to his house and stay that night, and told them 
he would give them some rum. It was then near 
night. They went with Bowen to his house, which 
was in Contoocook, at some distance below where 
they then were. He treated them freely with rum, 
which made them at first very well pleased ; but as 
they became more intoxicated, they began to be 
troublesome. Bowen, who had every quality of an 
Indian, had lived much with them, and knew per- 
fectly well how they would conduct, fearing they 
might do mischief, took the precaution to make his 
wife engage their attention, while he drew the 
charges from their guns, which were left behind the 
door in the entry. After this was done, the night 
was spent in a drunken Indian frolic, for which 
Bowen had as good a relish as his guests. The next 
morning they asked Bowen to go with his horse and 



37 



A man was he of comely form, 

Polished and brave, well learnt and kind ; 
Old Harvard's learned halls he left, 

Far in the wilds a grave to find. 

Ah, now his blood-red arm he lifts, 
His closing lids he tries to raise, 

And speak once more before he dies, . 
In supplication and in praise. 

He prays kind Heaven to grant success, 
Brave Lovewell's men to guide and bless. 

And when they've shed their heart blood true, 
To raise them all to happiness. 

" Come hither, Farwell," said young Frye, 
" You see that I'm about to die ; 

Now for the love I bear to you. 

When cold in death my bones shall lie, — 

" Go thou and see my parents dear, 
And tell them you stood by me here ; 

Console them when they cry, Alas ! 
And wipe away the falling tear." 

Lieutenant Farwell took his hand. 
His arm around his neck he threw. 

And said, " Brave chaplain, I could wish 
That Heaven had made me die for you. 
4 



38 



The chaplain on kind Farwell's breast, 

Bloody and languishing he fell ; 
Nor after this said more, but this, 

" I love thee, soldier ; fare thee well." 

Ah, many a wife shall rend her hair, 
And many a child cry, " Woe is me ! " 

When messengers the news shall bear, 
Of Lovewell's dear-bought victory.* 

With footsteps slow shall travellers go. 

Where Lovewell's Pond shines clear and bright, 

And mark the place where those are laid 
Who fell in Lovewell's bloody fight. 

Old men shall shake their heads, and say, 

" Sad was the hour and terrible 
When Lovewell brave 'gainst Paugus went, 

With fifty men from Dunstable." 



* Of the thirty-four men who belonged to Lovewell's party, but nine 
retiuned unhurt ; eleven came back wounded, and three had to be left 
behind on account of their severe wounds. Among these three was 
Ensign Robbins, who desired to have his gun charged and left by his 
side, that he might kill one more of them, should they return. 



THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 

"WBITTEN BY THE REV. GRAJn? PO^^RS, FOR THE HISTORICAL 
COLLECTIONS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

1731. 

The town of Hollis, in tlie county of Hillsbor- 
ongh, N.H.,is one of the oldest towns in the county, 
and was first settled by Captain Peter Powers, and 
Anna, his wife, from Hampshire, Dunstable, in 1731. 
Those early settlers were accustomed to the rearing 
of many swine, by permitting them to run at large 
in the woods, and to subsist upon roots, acorns, and 
nuts, which were produced in great abundance in 
the place. In the fall of the year, or at the time of 
the first deep snow, the older members of the herd, 
that were originally tame, would lead their numer- 
ous progeny into winter quarters, at a shed erected 
for that purpose some distance from the house, where 
the owner disposed of them as he pleased, although 
many of them were as untame and as ferocious as 
the beasts of the mountains. At that time bears 
were plenty, and very hostile to swine. It became 
necessary, therefore, to provide for the defence of 
the herd, by permitting one of the males to live 



40 THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 

several years beyond the period of life ordinarily 
assigned to that species by man ; at which time he 
became literally the master of the flock. His tusks 
protruded on either side, in nearly semicircles, to 
the distance of six or seven inches. He seemed 
conscious of his superiority and responsibility. He 
was fierce in the extreme, and courted danger ; and 
when the herd was assailed he instantly presented 
himself to the foe, with eyes darting fire, with tusks 
heated to blueness, and foaming at the mouth in a 
terrific manner. He roamed the forest, unconscious 
of danger ; he led the herd ; and but few of the 
untamed tribes had the temerity to dispute his title 
to supremacy. 

It happened, however, on a certain day in autumn, 
when Anna stood in the door of her cabin, listening 
to the oft-repeated sound of the descending axe, or 
the crash of falling trees, while her husband was at 
his daily task, that she heard from a great distance 
the faint yet distinct cry of one of their herd. She 
thought it was the cry of expiring nature. She 
remained in this state of suspense but a short time 
before the herd came rushing from the forest in the 
greatest apparent trepidation. The oldest dams of 
the herd, much exhausted, and without their common 
leader and protector, seemed inclined to take refuge 
in the apartment which had been their retreat in 
former winters ; but the younger branches of the 
family would not follow them. The dams, seeing 
this, dashed on through the cleared space, and dis- 
appeared in the forest on the north side. The cries 



THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 41 

of the wounded were still heard, but grew fainter 
and fainter, until wholly lost in death. But the 
anxious Anna had not removed from her position 
before the old boar came rushing through the bushes 
in eager pursuit of his charge, which had eloped and 
left him in the rear by many a rood. He was fresh 
from the field of combat. He was bathed in blood, 
foaming at the mouth, gnashing his tusks, and ex- 
hibiting a terrific aspect. Regardless of home, he 
approached a field of corn which grew near the 
cabin, and leaped the fence, not touching the top- 
most knot, although it was proof against horses 
which strayed through the woods from neighboring 
towns in Massachusetts. He passed directly through 
the field, without touching a kernel of corn, and, 
leaping the fence on the opposite side, disappeared 
in the woods. Not long after the wished-for hus- 
band, whose presence the gathering shades of even- 
ing, the deep solitude of the place, and the stirring 
events of the afternoon, had rendered peculiarly in- 
viting to the young partner of his toils and hopes, 
returned with his axe upon his shoulder, enlivening 
the forest with his evening whistle, and driving his 
old bell-cow before him, which summoned Anna with 
her milk pail to her evening task. 

Scarcely had he secured the topmost rail to his 
yard enclosure, when Anna, from the window of her 
cabin, saw her husband held in anxious suspense. 
For some moments he paused and listened, but turned 
and called, " Anna, Anna, bring me my gun and am- 
munition in a minute, for the old master himself is 
4* 



42 THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 

worsted." They were at his hand in a trice. " Look 
to yourself/' said the husband, and bounded into 
the forest.* Pursuing with great speed the course 
whence the sound proceeded, which alone broke the 
silence of the evening, our adventurer soon found 
himself at the distance of about a mile and a half 
from his cabin, surrounded with black alders, so 
thickly set as to be almost impenetrable to man and 
beast. Before him lay Long Pond, so called, about 
one mile in length, and from a quarter to a half a 
mile perhaps in width. He was near midway of the 
pond, and the sound from the laboring boar and his 
antagonist (a mixed, frightful yell) proceeded direct- 
ly from the opposite shore. Nothing now remained 
but for him to plunge into the pond, and make the 
opposite shore by beating the waves, or to divide 
him a passage amidst the alders around one of the 
extremities of the pond, which could not be done 
short of travelling the distance of another mile. 
But no time was to be lost. The cries of the boar 
bespoke the greatest need, and the latter course 
was adopted ; and in a space of time and with the 
courage and energy which are scarcely conceived by 
the present generation, he arrived at the scene of 
action. Whose heart does not now misgive him, 
while nearing the battle ground, alone, in darkness, 
and all uncertain as to the nature of the foe ? But 
young Powers advanced with undaunted firmness. 
He was under the necessity of approaching near to 

* Indians were then numerous in the town. 



THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 43 

the belligerents before he could make any discovery, 
by reason of the darkness of the night, rendered 
more dark by the towering trees, which mingled 
their branches at some sixty or seventy feet from 
the ground, and a dense underwood, which stood 
like a hedge continually before him. But as soon 
as he entered the area which had been beaten down 
during the action, he discovered the boar seated 
upon the ground, and still defending himself against 
the furious assaults of the hugest bear his eyes ever 
beheld. She was like his old hell-cow for magni- 
tude 1 He drew his gun to an aim, when he per- 
ceived, obscurely, that the bear was on a line with 
him and his hog, and he could not discharge his 
piece without putting the life of the latter in jeop- 
ardy ; and as he was moving in a circular direction 
to procure a safe discharge, he was discovered by 
the bear, and she bounded into the bushes. Powers 
now came up to the boar, and witnessed such tokens 
of gladness as surprised him. It was, however, too 
solemn an hour with the swine to lavish upon his 
deliverer unmeaning ceremonies. As soon as he 
found himself released from his too powerful antag- 
onist, he prostrated himself upon the ground, and 
lay some time, panting and groaning in a manner 
truly affecting to his owner. Powers now dis- 
charged his gun, with a view to terrify the beasts 
of prey, and keep them off during the night. He 
struck and kindled a fire, and, upon a slight exam- 
ination, he found that his hog was lacerated in his 
rear in a shocking manner. He was utterly dis- 



44 THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 

abled from rising, except upon his fore feet. But to 
show the indomitable nature of the animal, I will 
relate that the boar, after some little time, recov- 
ered in a degree from his extreme exhaustion, and 
gaining the same position he had when his owner 
found him, began to beat a challenge for a re- 
newal of the combat. Again his eyes flashed with 
rage, he stamped with his fore feet, he chafed, 
gnashed with his tusks, and, foaming at the mouth, 
he looked around with the greatest apparent firm- 
ness for his antagonist. Our adventurer now drew 
together fallen wood sufficient to support a fire 
through the night, burned powder around his swine, 
and returned to his cabin, where he was never more 
joyfully received by the young wife, who, during all 
this while, had remained listening at the window in 
painful solicitude. 

The next day some help was obtained, as one 
family had, prior to this, moved in and settled in 
the south-west part of the town ; and the battle 
ground was revisited. The boar had not moved 
out of his place, but was still weltering in his blood. 
With much labor he was conveyed home in a cart ; 
and, as he never could become the defence of the 
herd again, he was yarded, fattened, and killed, and 
helped by his death to promote that existence to the 
family which he could no longer do by his life. 

With a view to account for the melancholy fate 
of the boar. Powers and his associates went in 
search of the swine that was destroyed in the af- 
ternoon of the preceding day. They found one of 



THE BOAR AND THE BEAR. 45 

their largest hogs slain by a bear, and, near to, a 
large bear was as evidently slain by the boar. From 
this they inferred that the first hog was mortally 
wounded by a bear in the absence of the boar, but 
the cries of the wounded soon brought the master, 
when a battle ensued in which the bear was slain, 
not, however, without loss of blood from the boar ; 
that during this first action the rest of the herd 
fled, and that the boar was in pursuit of them when 
he passed the cabin through the field ; that after 
running some miles at the point of exhaustion, he 
fell in with a still more powerful antagonist, when 
his fight was comparatively feeble, and he fell, (wer- 
'powered^ but not subdued. 



THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA 
M'COY, OF EPSOM, N. H. 

COMMUNICATED BY THE REV. JONATHAN CURTIS^ OF EPSOM, TO 
THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HISTORICAL COLLECTIONS. 

1747. 

The Indians were first attracted to tlie new set- 
tlements in the town of Epsom, N. H., by discover- 
ing M'Coy at Suncook, now Pembroke. This, as 
nearly as can be ascertained, was in the year 1747. 
Reports were spread of the depredations of the 
Indians in various places, and M'Coy had heard 
that they had been seen lurking about the woods at 
Penacook, now Concord. He went as far as Pem- 
broke, ascertained that they were in the vicinity, 
was somewhere discovered by them, and followed 
home. They told his wife, whom they afterwards 
made prisoner, that they looked through cracks 
around the house, and saw what they had for supper 
that night. They, however, did not discover them- 
selves till the second day after. They probably 
wished to take a little time to learn the strength 
and preparation of the inhabitants. The next day, 
Mrs. M'Coy, attended by their two dogs, went down 
to see if any of the other families had returned 

C46) 



47 

from the garrison. She found no one. On her 
return, as she was passing the block house, which 
stood near the present site of the meeting house, the 
dogs, which had passed round it, came running back 
growling and very much excited. Their appearance 
induced her to make the best of her way home. The 
Indians afterwards told her that they then lay con- 
cealed there, and saw the dogs when they came 
round. 

M'Coy, being now strongly suspicious ^hat the 
Indians were actually in the town, determined to set 
off the next day with his family for the garrison at 
Nottingham. His family now consisted of himself, 
his wife, and son John. The younger children were 
still at the garrison. They accordingly secured 
their house as well as they could, and all set off 
next morning, M'Coy and his son with their guns, 
though without ammunition, having fired away what 
they brought with them in hunting. 

As they were travelling a little distance east of 
the place where the meeting house now stands, Mrs. 
M'Coy fell a little in the rear of the others. This 
circumstance gave the Indians a favorable opportu- 
nity for separating her from her husband and son. 
The Indians, three men and a boy, lay in ambush 
near the foot of Marden's hill, not far from the junc- 
tion of the mountain road with the main road. Here 
they suffered M'Coy and his son to pass ; but as his 
wife was passing them, they reached from the bushes, 
and took hold of her, charging her to make no noise, 
and covering her mouth with their hands, as she 



48 THE CAPTIVITY OP MRS. ISABELLA M'COY. 

cried to her husband for assistance. Her husband, 
hearing her cries, turned, and was about coming to 
her relief ; but he no sooner began to advance, than 
the Indians, expecting probably that he would fire 
upon them, began to raise their pieces, which she 
pushed one side, and motioned to her friends to 
make their escape, knowing that their guns were 
not loaded, and that they would doubtless be killed 
if they approached. They accordingly ran into the 
woods, and made their escape to the garrison. This 
took place August 21, 1747. 

The Indians then collected together what booty 
they could obtain, which consisted of an iron tram- 
mel from Mr. George Wallace's, the apples of the 
only tree which bore in town, which was in the 
orchard now owned by Mr. David Griffin, and some 
other trifling articles, and prepared to set off with 
their prisoner for Canada. 

Before they took their departure, they conveyed 
Mrs. M'Coy to a place near the little Suncook River, 
where they left her in the care of the young Indian, 
while the three men, whose names were afterwards 
ascertained to be Plausawa, Sabatis, and Christi, 
went away, and were for some time absent. During 
their absence, Mrs. M'Coy thought of attempting to 
make her escape. She saw opportunities when she 
thought she might despatch the young Indian with 
the trammel which, with other things, was left with 
them, and thus perhaps avoid some strange and bar- 
barous death, or a long and distressing captivity. 
But, on the other hand, she knew not at what dis- 



THE CAPTIVITr OF MRS. ISABELLA m'COY. 49 

tance the others were. If she attempted to kill her 
young keeper, she might fail. If she effected her 
purpose in this, she might be pursued and overtaken 
by a cruel and revengeful foe, and then some dread- 
ful death would be her certain portion. On the 
whole, she thought best to endeavor to prepare her 
mind to bear what might be no more than a period 
of savage captivity. Soon, however, the Indians 
returned, and put an end for the present to all 
thoughts of escape. From the direction in which 
they went and returned, and from their smutty ap- 
pearance, she suspected what their business had 
been. She told them she guessed they had been 
burning her house. Plausawa, who could speak 
some broken English, informed her they had. 

They now commenced their long and tedious jour- 
ney to Canada, in which the poor captive might well 
expect that great and complicated sufferings would be 
her lot. She did indeed find the journey fatiguing, 
and her fare scanty and precarious. But in her treat- 
ment from the Indians she experienced a very agree- 
able disappointment. The kindness she received 
from them was far greater than she had expected 
from those who were so often distinguished for their 
cruelties. The apples they had gathered they saved 
for her, giving her one every day. In this way they 
lasted her as far on the way as Lake Champlain. 
They gave her the last as they were crossing that 
lake in their canoes. This circumstance gave to the 
tree on which the apples grew the name of "Isa- 
bel's tree," her name being Isabella. In many ways 
5 



50 THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA m'COY. 

did they appear desirous of mitigating the distresses 
of their prisoner while on their tedious journey. 
When night came on, and they halted to repose 
themselves in the dark wilderness, Plausawa, the 
head man, would make a little couch in the leaves, 
a little way from theirs, cover her up with his own 
blanket, and there she was sufifered to sleep undis- 
turbed till morning. When they came to a river 
which must be forded, one of them would carry her 
over on his back. Nothing like insult or indecency 
did they ever offer her during the whole time she 
was with them. They carried her to Canada, and 
sold her as a servant to a French family, whence, at 
the close of that war, she returned home. But so 
comfortable was her condition there, and her hus- 
band being a man of rather a rough and violent 
temper, she declared she never should have thought 
of attempting the journey home, were it not for the 
sake of her children. 

After the capture of Mrs. M'Coy, the Indians fre- 
quently visited the town, but never committed any 
very great depredations. The greatest damage they 
ever did to the property of the inhabitants was the 
spoiling of all the ox teams in town. At the time 
referred to, there were but four yoke of oxen in the 
place, viz., M'Coy's, Captain M'Clary's, George Wal- 
lace's, and Sergeant Blake's. It was a time of 
apprehension from the Indians, and the inhabitants 
had therefore all fled to the garrison at Nottingham. 
They left their oxen to graze about the woods, with 
a bell upon one of them. The Indians found them, 



shot one out of each yoke, took out their tongues, 
made a prize of the bell, and left them. 

The ferocity and cruelty of the savages were 
doubtless very much averted by a friendly, concili- 
ating course of conduct in the inhabitants towards 
them. This was particularly the case in the course 
pursued by Sergeant Blake. Being himself a curious 
marksman and an expert hunter, — traits of charac- 
ter in their view of the highest order, — he soon 
secured their respect, and, by a course of kind treat- 
ment, he secured their friendship to such a degree 
that, though they had opportunities, they would not 
injure him, even in time of war. 

The first he ever saw of them was a company of 
them making towards his house through the opening 
from the top of Sanborn's Hill. He fled to the 
woods, and there lay concealed, till they had made 
a thorough search about his house and enclosures, 
and had gone off. The next time his visitors came, 
he was constrained to become more acquainted with 
them, and to treat them with more attention. As 
he was busily engaged towards the close of the day 
in completing a yard for his cow, the declining sun 
suddenly threw along several enormous shadows 
on the ground before him. He had no sooner turned 
to see the cause, than he found himself in the com- 
pany of a number of stately Indians. Seeing his 
perturbation, they patted him on the head, and told 
him not to be afraid, for they would not hurt him. 
They then went with him into his house, and their 
first business was to search all his bottles, to see if 



52 THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA m'cOY. 

he had any ^^ occapee " — rum. They then told him 
they were very hungry, and wanted something to 
eat. He happened to have a quarter of a bear, 
which he gave them. They took it, and threw it 
whole upon the fire, and very soon began to cut and 
eat from it half raw. While they were eating, he 
employed himself in cutting pieces from it, and 
broiling upon a stick for them, which pleased them 
very much. After their repast, they wished for the 
privilege of lying by his fire through the night, 
which he granted. The next morning they pro- 
posed trying skill with him in firing at a mark. To 
this he acceded. But in this, finding themselves 
outdone, they were much astonished and chagrined ; 
nevertheless, they highly commended him for his 
skill, patting him on the head, and telling him if he 
would go offivitk them, they would wake him their big 
captain. They used often to call upon him, and 
his kindness to them they never forgot, even in time 
of war. 

Plausawa had a peculiar manner of doubling his 
lip, and producing a very shrill, piercing whistle, 
which might be heard a great distance. At a time 
when considerable danger was apprehended from 
the Indians, Blake went off" into the woods alone, 
though considered hazardous, to look for his cow 
that was missing. As he was passing along by Sin- 
clair's Brook, an unfrequented place, northerly from 
M' Coy's Mountain, a very loud, sharp whistle, which 
he knew to be Plausawa's, suddenly passed through 
his head like the report of a pistol. The sudden 



THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. ISABELLA M'COY. 53 

alarm almost raised him from the ground, and, with 
a very light step, he soon reached home without his 
cow. In more peaceable times, Plausawa asked him 
if he did not remember the time, and laughed very 
much to think how he ran at the fright, and told 
him the reason for his whistling. ^' Young India?!,^^ 
said he, "pw^ up gun to shoot Englishman. Me knock 
it dow7i, and whistle to start you offJ^ So lasting is 
their friendship, when treated well. At the close 
of the wars, the Indians built several wigwams near 
the confluence of Wallace's Brook with the great 
Suncook. On a little island in this river, near the 
place called " Short Falls," one of them lived for a 
considerable time. Plausawa and Sabatis were 
finally both killed in time of peace by one of the 
whites, after a drunken quarrel, and buried near a 
certain brook in Boscawen.* 
5* 

* See the article ^'■Indian Bridge,'" p. 7L 



PEABODY'S LEAP. 

A LEGEND OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

Many are the places, scattered over the face of 
our beautiful country, whose wiid and picturesque 
scenery is worthy of the painter's pencil, or the 
poet's pen. Some of them, which were once cele- 
brated for their rich stories of "legendary lore," 
are now only sought to view their natural scenery, 
while the traditions which formerly gave them ce- 
lebrity are buried in oblivion. Such is the scene 
of the following adventure, — a romantic glen, 
bounded on the north side by a high and rocky hill, 
which stretches itself some distance into the lake, 
terminating in a precipice some thirty feet in height, 
and known by the name of " Peabody's Leap." 

At the time of the adventure, Timothy Peabody 
was the only man that lived within fifty miles of 
the place. In an attack on one of the frontier set- 
tlements, his family had all been massacred by the 
merciless savage, and he had sworn that their death 
should be revenged. The better to accomplish this 
dread purpose, he had removed to this solitary 
place, and constructed the rude shelter in which he 
dwelt, till the blasts of winter drove him to the 

(54) 



55 

home of his fellow-men again, to renew the contest 
when spring had awakened nature into life and 
beauty. He was a man who possessed much shrewd 
cunning, combined with a thorough knowledge of 
Indian habits, by which he had always been enabled 
to avoid the snares of his subtle enemies. Often, 
when they had come with a party to take him, he 
escaped their lures, and after destroying his hut, 
on their return homeward some of their boldest 
warriors were picked off by his unerring aim ; or, 
on arriving at their home, they learned that one of 
their swiftest hunters had fallen a victim to his 
deadly rifle. He had lived in this way for several 
years, and had so often baffled them that they had 
at last become weary of the pursuit, and for some 
time had left him unmolested. 

About this time a party of Indians made a de- 
scent on one of the small settlements, and had taken 
three prisoners, whom they were carrying home to 
sacrifice for the same number of men that had been 
shot by Peabody. It was towards the close of the 
day when they passed his abode, most of the party 
in advance of the prisoners, who, with their hands 
tied, and escorted by five or six Indians, were almost 
wearied out by their long march, and but just able 
to crawl along. He had observed this advanced 
guard, and suspecting there were prisoners in the 
rear, let them pass unmolested, intending to try 
some ** Yankee tricks '' to effect their rescue. He 
accordingly followed on in the trail of the party, 
keeping among the thick trees which on either side 



66 

skirted the path. He had proceeded but a short 
distance before he heard the sharp report of a rifle, 
apparently very near him, which he knew must be 
one of the Indians, who had strolled from the main 
body to procure some game for their evening meal. 
From his acquaintance with their habits and lan- 
guage, he only needed a disguise to enable him to 
join the party if necessary, and, aided by the dark- 
ness, which was fast approaching, with but little 
danger of detection. The resolution was quickly 
put in operation to kill this Indian and procure his 
dress. 

He had got but a few paces before he discovered 
his victim, who had but just finished loading his 
rifle. To stand forth and boldly confront him would 
give the savage an equal chance, and even if Pea- 
body proved the best shot, the party of Indians, on 
hearing the report of two rifles at once, would be 
alarmed, and commence a pursuit. The chance was, 
therefore, two to one against him, and he was 
obliged to contrive a way to make the Indian fire 
first. Planting himself behind a large tree, he took 
off his fox skin cap, placed it on the end of his 
rifle, and began to move it. The Indian quickly 
discovered it, and was not at a loss to recollect the 
owner by the well-known cap. Knowing how often 
Peabody had eluded them, he resolved to despatch 
him at once ; and without giving him notice of his 
dangerous proximity, he instantly raised his rifle, 
and its contents went whizzing through the air. 
The ball just touched the bark of the tree, and 



peabody's leap. 57 

pierced the cap, which rose suddenly, like the death 
spring of the beaver, and then fell amidst the bushes. 
The Indian, like a true sportsman, thinking himself 
sure of his victim, did not go to pick up his game 
till he had reloaded his piece ; and dropping it to 
the ground, he was calmly proceeding in the opera- 
tion, when Peabody as calmly stepped from his 
hiding-place and exclaimed, " JVoi^, y(m tarnal crit- 
ter, say your prayers as fast as ever you can / " 

This was short notice for the poor Indian. Be- 
fore him, and scarcely ten paces distant, stood the 
tall form of Peabody, motionless as a statue, his 
rifle at his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, and 
his deadly aim firmly fixed upon him. He was 
about to run, but he had no time to turn round ere 
the swift-winged messenger had taken its flight ; the 
ball pierced his side — he sprang into the air and 
fell lifeless to the ground. 

No time was to be lost. He immediately pro- 
ceeded to strip the dead body and array himself in 
the accoutrements, consisting of a hunting shirt, a 
pair of moccasins or leggins, and the wampum, belt 
and knife. A little of the blood besmeared on his 
sunburnt countenance served for the red paint, and 
it would have taken a keen eye, in the gray twilight 
and thick gloom of the surrounding forest, to have 
detected the counterfeit Indian. Shouldering his 
rifle he again started in the pursuit, and followed 
them till they arrived in the glen, where their ca- 
noes were secreted. Here they stopped and began 
to prepare for their expected supper, previous to 



5S 

their embarkation for the opposite shore. The 
canoes were launched, and their baggage deposited 
in them. A fire was blazing brightly, and the party 
were walking impatiently around, awaiting the re- 
turn of the hunter. The body of Peabody was 
safely deposited behind a fallen tree, where he could 
see every motion and hear every word spoken in 
the circle. Here he had been about half an hour. 

Night had drawn her sable curtains around the 
scene. The moon shone fitfully through the clouds 
which almost covered the horizon, only serving 
occasionally to render the " darkness visible.'' The 
Indians now began to evince /manifest signs of im- 
patience for the return of their comrade. They 
feared that a party of the whites had followed them 
and taken him prisoner, and at last resolved to go 
in search of him. The plan, which was fortunately 
heard by Peabody, was to put the captives into one 
of the canoes, under the care of five of their num- 
ber, who were to secrete themselves in case of 
attack, massacre the prisoners, and then go to the 
assistance of their brethren. 

As soon as the main body had started, Peabody 
cautiously crept from his hiding-place to the water, 
and sliding in feet foremost, moved along on his 
back, his face just above the surface, to the canoe 
which contained the rifles of the guard. The 
priming was quickly removed, and their powder 
horns emptied. He then went to the canoe in which 
the captives were placed, and gave them notice of 
the intended rescue, at the same time warning them 



59 

not to show themselves above the gunwale till they 
were in safety. He next with his Indian knife sepa- 
rated the thong which held the canoe to the shore, 
intending to swim off with it till h^had got far 
enough to avoid observation, then get in and paddle 
for the nearest place where a landing could be 
effected. All this was the work of a Wment, and 
he was slowly moving off from the shore, expecting 
an attack from this side ; but unfortunately his rifle 
had been left behind, and he resolved not to part 
with " Old Plumper," as he called it, without at 
least one effort to recover it. He immediately gave 
the captives notice of his intention, and directed 
them to paddle slowly and silently out, and in going 
past the headland to approach as near as possible, 
and there await his coming. The guard by this 
time had secreted themselves, and one of the num- 
ber had chosen the same place which Peabody him- 
self had previously occupied, near which he had 
left his old friend. He had almost got to the spot, 
when the Indian discovered the rifle, and grasping 
it, sprang upon his feet and gave the alarm to his 
companions. Quick as thought, Peabody was upon 
him, seized the rifle, and wrenched it from him with 
such violence as to throw him prostrate upon the 
ground. The rest of the Indians were alarmed, and 
sounding the war whoop, rushed upon him. 

It was a standard maxim with Peabody, that "a 
good soldier never runs till he is obliged to ; " and 
he now found that he should be under the necessity 
of suiting his practice to his theory. There was 



60 



no time for deliberatioa ; he instantly knocked down 
the foremost with the butt of his rifle, and bounded 
away through the thicket like a startled deer. Th& 
three Indians made for the canoe in which the rifles 
were deposited, already made harmless by the pre- 
caution of Peabody. This gave him a good advan- 
tage, which was not altogether unnecessary, as he 
was much encumbered with his wet clothes ; and be- 
fore he reached the goal he could hear them snap- 
ping the dry twigs behind him. The main body 
had likewise got the alarm, and were but a short 
distance from him when he reached the head land. 
Those who were nearest he did not fear, unless 
they came to close action, and he resolved to send 
one more to his long home, before he leaped from 
the precipice. 

" It's a burning shame to wet so much powder," 
exclaimed he ; " I'll have one more pop at them 
tarnal redskins." Peabody's position was quickly 
arranged to put his threat into execution. His 
rifle was presented, his eye glanced along its barrel, 
and the first one that showed his head received its 
deadly contents. In an instant Peabody was in the 
water, making for the canoe. The whole party by 
this time had come up, and commenced a brisk fire 
upon the fugitives. Peabody stood erect in the 
canoe, shouting in the voice of a Stentor, " You^d 
better take care; yeHl spile the skiff. Old Plumper^ s 
safe, and you'll feel him yet, I tell ye ! " 

They were quickly lost in darkness, and taking a 



INDIAN BRIDGE. 73 

carry their baggage to the place where their canoe 
was left the evening before. He went, and carried 
their packs on his horse. As they went, Sabatis pro- 
posed to run a race with the horse. Bo wen, suspect- 
ing mischief was intended, declined the race, but 
finally consented to run. He, however, took care to 
let the Indian outrun the horse. Sabatis laughed 
heartily at Bowen, because the horse could run no 
faster. They then proceeded, apparently in good 
humor. After a while, Sabatis said to Bowen, 
' Bowen walk woods," meaning, " Go with me as a 
prisoner." Bowen said, " No walk woods ; all one 
brothers." They went on together until they were 
aear the canoe, when Sabatis proposed a second 
race, and that the horse should be unloaded of the 
oaggage, and should start a little before him. 
Bowen refused to start so, but consented to start 
together. They ran, and as soon as the horse had 
^ot a little before the Indian, Bowen heard a gun 
map. Looking round, he saw the smoke of powder, 
ind the gun aimed at him ; he turned and struck 
lis tomahawk in the Indian's head. He went back 
to meet Plausawa, who, seeing the fate of Sabatis, 
'ook aim with his gun at Bowen ; the gun flashed. 
Plausawa fell on his knees, and begged for his life. 
He pleaded his innocence and former friendship for 
the English ; but all in vain. Bowen knew there 
would be no safety for him while the companion and 
friend of Sabatis was living. To secure himself, he 
buried the same tomahawk in the skull of Plausawa. 
This was done in the road on the bank of Merrimac 
7 



74 INDIAN BRIDGE. 

River, near the northerly line of Contoocook, now 
Boscawen. Bowen hid the dead bodies under a 
small bridge in Salisbury. The next spring the 
bodies were discovered and buried.* That bridge 
has ever since, to this day, been called Indian 
Bridge. 

* It is due to history, as well as to the credit of a race already too 
much maligned, to state that the killing of Plausawa and Sabatis was 
considered a murder, both by the St. Francis tribe of Indians, to which 
they belonged, and by the authorities of New Hampshire, who seized 
upon Bowen and one other, and imprisoned them in the Portsmouth 
jail, whence, however, they were liberated by an armed mob, the peo- 
ple generally considering the killing of an Indian a meritorious act. 
Bowen was aware that the half-intoxicated Indians were in a state of 
irritation against the whites; nevertheless he invited them to his 
house, and gave them every opportunity to vent their feelings. He 
had them completely in his power, though they did not know it. It 
would seem also that gratitude as well as mercy should have led him to 
spare their lives. A reference to the " Captivity of Mrs. M'Coy " will 
show that Plausawa had before this saved the life of one of the set- 
tlers, when in a very critical situation. 



THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF 
MRS. JEMIMA HOWE, 

TAKEN PRISONER BY THE INDIANS AT BRIDGMAN'S FORT, IN THE 
PRESENT TO^VN OF ^TERNON, "VT. COMMUNICATED TO DR. BEL- 
KNAP BY THE REV. BUNKER GAY. 

1755. 

As Messrs. Caleb Howe, Hilkiah Grout, and Ben- 
jamin Gaffield, who had been hoeing corn in the 
meadow, west of the river, were returning home a 
little before sunset, to a place called Bridgman's 
Fort, they were fired upon by twelve Indians, who 
had ambushed their path. Howe was on horseback, 
with two young lads, his children, behind him. A 
ball, which broke his thigh, brought him to the 
ground. His horse ran a few rods, and fell like- 
wise, and both the lads were taken. The Indians, 
in their savage manner, coming up to Howe, pierced 
his body with a spear, tore off his scalp, stuck a 
hatchet in his head, and left him in this forlorn con- 
dition. He was found alive the morning after by 
a party of men from Fort Hinsdale ; and being 
asked by one of the party whether he knew him, he 
answered, " Yes, I know you all." These were his 
last words, though he did not expire until after his 

(75) 



76 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

friends had arrived with him at Fort Hinsdale. 
Grout was so fortunate as to escape unhurt ; but 
Gaffield, in attempting to wade through the river, 
at a certain place which was indeed fordable at that 
time, was unfortunately drowned. Flushed with 
the success they had met with here, the savages 
went directly to Bridgman's Fort. There was no 
man in it, and only three women and some children, 
viz., Mrs. Jemima Howe, Mrs. Submit Grout, and 
Mrs. Eunice Gaffield. Their husbands I need not 
mention again, and their feelings at this juncture I 
will not attempt to describe. They had heard the 
enemy's guns, but knew not what had happened to 
their friends. Extremely anxious for their safety, 
they stood longing to embrace them, until at length, 
concluding from the noise they heard without that 
some of them were come, they unbarred the gate in 
a hurry to receive them ; when, lo ! to their inex- 
pressible disappointment and surprise, instead of 
their husbands, in rushed a number of hideous In- 
dians, to whom they and their tender oifspring be- 
came an easy prey, and from whom they had nothing 
to expect but either an immediate death or a long 
and doleful captivity. The latter of these, by the 
favor of Providence, turned out to be the lot of 
these unhappy women, and their still more unhappy, 
because more helpless, children. Mrs. Gaffield had 
but one, Mrs. Grout had three, and Mrs. Howe 
seven. The eldest of Mrs. Howe's was eleven 
years old, and the youngest but six months. The 
two eldest were daughters which she had by her 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 77 

first husband, Mr. William Phipps, who was also 
slain by the Indians. It was from the mouth of 
this woman that I lately received the foregoing ac- 
count. She also gave me, I doubt not, a true, though, 
to be sure, a very brief and imperfect history of her 
captivity, which I here insert for your perusal. It 
may perhaps afford you some amusement, and can 
do no harm, if, after it has undergone your critical 
inspection, you should not think it (or an abbrevia- 
tion of it) worthy to be preserved among the records 
you are about to publish. 

The Indians (she says) having plundered and put 
fire to the fort, we marched, as near as I could judge, 
a mile and a half into the woods, where we en- 
camped that night. When the morning came, and 
we had advanced as much farther, six Indians were 
sent back to the place of our late abode, who col- 
lected a little more plunder, and destroyed some other 
effects that had been left behind ; but they did not 
return until the day was so far spent that it was 
judged best to continue where we were through the 
night. Early the next morning we set off for Can- 
ada, and continued our march eight days succes- 
sively, until we had reached the place where the 
Indians had left their canoes, about fifteen miles 
from Crown Point. This was a long and tedious 
march ; but the captives, by divine assistance, were 
enabled to endure it with less trouble and difficulty 
than they had reason to expect. From such savage 
masters, in such indigent circumstances, we could 
not rationally hope for kinder treatment than we 



78 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

received. Some of us, it is true, had a harder lot 
than others ; and, among the children, I thought my 
son Squire had the hardest of any. He was then 
only four years old ; and when we stopped to rest 
our weary limbs, and he sat down on his master's 
pack, the savage monster would often knock him off, 
and sometimes, too, with the handle of his hatchet. 
Several ugly marks, indented in his head by the 
cruel Indians at that tender age, are still plainly to 
be seen. 

At length we arrived at Crown Point, and took 
up our quarters there for the space of near a week. 
In the mean time some of the Indians went to Mon- 
treal, and took several of the weary captives along 
with them, with a view of selling them to the French. 
They did not succeed, however, in finding a market 
for any of them. They gave my youngest daughter. 
Submit Phipps, to the governor, De Yaudreuil, had 
a drunken frolic, and returned again to Crown 
Point, with the rest of their prisoners. From hence 
we set off for St. John's, in four or five canoes, just 
as night was coming on, and were soon surrounded 
with darkness. A heavy storm hung over us. The 
sound of the rolling thunder was very terrible upon 
the waters, which, at every flash of expansive light- 
ning, seemed to be all in a blaze. Yet to this we 
were indebted for all the light we enjoyed. No 
object could we discern any longer than the flashes 
lasted. In this posture we sailed in our open, tot- 
tering canoes almost the whole of that dreary night. 
The morning, indeed, had not yet begun to dawn, 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 79 

when we all went ashore ; and, having collected a 
heap of sand and gravel for a pillow, I laid myself 
down, with my tender infant by my side, not know- 
ing where any of my other children were, or what a 
miserable condition they might be in. The next 
day, however, under the wing of that ever-present 
and all-powerful Providence which had preserved 
us through the darkness and imminent dangers of 
the preceding night, we all arrived in safety at St. 
John's. 

Our next movement was to St. Francis, the me- 
tropolis, if I may so call it, to which the Indians 
who led us captive belonged. Soon after our arrival 
at their wretched capital, a council, consisting of 
the chief sachem and some principal warriors of 
the St. Francis tribe, was convened ; and after the 
ceremonies usual on such occasions were over, I was 
conducted and delivered to an old squaw, whom the 
Indians told me I must call my mother — my infant 
still continuing to be the property of its original 
Indian owners. I was nevertheless permitted to 
keep it with me a while longer, for the sake of sav- 
ing them the trouble of looking after it, and of 
maintaining it with my milk. When the weather 
began to grow cold, shuddering at the prospect of 
approaching winter, I acquainted my new mother 
that I did not think it would be possible for me to 
endure it if I must spend it with her, and fare as the 
Indians did. Listening to my repeated and earnest 
solicitations that I might be disposed of among 
some of the French inhabitants of Canada, she at 



80 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

length set off with me and my infant, attended by 
some male Indians, upon a journey to Montreal, in 
hopes of finding a market for me there. But the 
attempt proved unsuccessful, and the journey tedious 
indeed. Our provisions were so scanty, as well as 
insipid and unsavory, the weather was so cold, and 
the travelling so very bad, that it often seemed as 
if I must have perished on the way. The lips of 
my poor child were sometimes so benumbed that 
when I put it to my breast, it could not, till it grew 
warm, imbibe the nourishment requisite for its sup- 
port. "While we were at Montreal, we went into 
the house of a certain French gentleman, whose 
lady, being sent for, and coming into the room 
where I was, to examine me, seeing I had an infant, 
exclaimed suddenly in this manner : " Damn it, I 
will not buy a woman that has a child to look after.'' 
There was a swill pail standing near me, in which I 
observed some crusts and crumbs of bread swimming 
on the surface of the greasy liquor it contained. 
Sorely pinched with hunger, I sliimmed them off 
with my hands, and ate them ; and this was all the 
refreshment which the house afforded me. Some- 
where, in the course of this visit to Montreal, my 
Indian mother was so unfortunate as to catch the 
small pox, of which distemper she died, soon after 
our return, which was by water, to St. Francis. 

And now came on the season when the Indians 
began to prepare for a winter's hunt. I was ordered 
to return my poor child to those of them who still 
claimed it as their property. This was a severe 



OP MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 81 

trial. The babe cluug to my bosom with all its 
might ; but I was obliged to pluck it thence, and 
deliver it, shrieking and screaming, enough to pen- 
etrate a heart of stone, into the hands of those un- 
feeling wretches, whose tender mercies may be 
termed cruel. It was soon carried off by a hunting 
party of those Indians to a place called Messiskow, 
at the lower end of Lake Champlain, whither, in 
about a month after, it was my fortune to follow 
them. I had preserved my milk, in hopes of seeing 
my beloved child again ; and here I found it, it is 
true, but in a condition that afforded me no great- 
satisfaction, it being greatly emaciated and almost 
starved. I took it in my arms, put its face to mine, 
and it instantly bit me with such violence that it 
seemed as if I must have parted with a piece of my 
cheek. I was permitted to lodge with it that and 
the two following nights ; but every morning that 
intervened, the Indians, I suppose on purpose to tor- 
ment me, sent me away to another wigwam, which 
stood at a little distance, though not so far from the 
one in which my distressed infant was confined but 
that I could plainly hear its incessant cries and 
heart-rending lamentations. In this deplorable con- 
dition I was obliged to take my leave of it, on the 
morning of the third day after my arrival at the 
place. We moved down the lake several miles the 
same day ; and the night following was remarkable 
on account of the great earthquake* which terribly 

* November 18, 1755. 



82 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

shook that howling wilderness. Among the islands 
hereabout we spent the winter season, often shifting 
our quarters, and roving about from one place to 
another, our family consisting of three persons only, 
besides myself, viz. : my late mother's daughter, 
whom, therefore, I called my sister, her sanhop,* 
and a pappoose. They once left me alone two dismal 
nights ; and when they returned to me again, per- 
ceiving them smile at each other, I asked, " What is 
the matter ? '' They replied that two of my chil- 
dren were no more ; one of which, they said, died a 
natural death, and the other was knocked on the 
head. I did not utter many words, but my heart 
was sorely pained within me, and my mind exceed- 
ingly troubled with strange and awful ideas. I 
often imagined, for instance, that I plainly saw the 
naked carcasses of my deceased children hanging 
upon the limbs of the trees, as the Indians are wont 
to hang the raw hides of those beasts which they 
take in hunting. 

It was not long, however, before it was so ordered 
by kind Providence that I should be relieved in a 
good measure from those horrid imaginations ; for, 
as I was walking one day upon the ice, observing a 
smoke at some distance upon the land, it must pro- 
ceed, thought I, from the lire of some Indian hut ; 
and who knows but some one of my poor children 
may be there? My curiosity, thus excited, led me 
to the place, and there I found my son Caleb, a 
little boy between two and three years old, whom I 

* Warrior hnsband. 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 83 

had lately buried, in sentiment at least, or, rather, 
imagined to have been deprived of life, and perhaps 
also denied a decent grave. I found him likewise 
in tolerable health and circumstances, under the 
protection of a fond Indian mother ; and, more- 
over, had the happiness of lodging with him in my 
arms one joyful night. Again we shifted our quar- 
ters, and when we had travelled eight or ten miles 
upon the snow and ice, came to a place where the 
Indians manufactured sugar, which they extracted 
from the maple trees. Here an Indian came to visit 
us, whom I knew, and could speak English. He 
asked me why I did not go to see my son Squire. 
I replied that I had lately been informed that he 
was dead. He assured me that he was yet alive, 
and but two or three miles off, on the opposite side 
of the lake. At my request he gave me the best 
directions he could to the place of his abode. I 
resolved to embrace the first opportunity that 
offered of endeavoring to search it out. While I 
was busy in contemplating this affair, the Indians 
obtained a little bread, of which they gave me a 
small share. I did not taste a morsel of it myself, 
but saved it all for my poor child, if I should be so 
lucky as to find him. At length, having obtained 
from my keepers leave to be absent for one day, I 
set off early in the morning, and steering as well 
as I could, according to the directions which the 
friendly Indian had given me, I quickly found the 
place which he had so accurately marked out. I 
beheld, as I drew nigh, my little son without the 



84 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

camp ; but he looked, thought I, like a starved and 
mangy puppy, that had been wallowing in the ashes. 
I took him in my arms, and he spoke to me these 
words, in the Indian tongue : " Mother, are you 
come ? " I took him into the wigwam with me, and 
observing a number of Indian children in it, I dis- 
tributed all the bread which I had reserved for my 
own child among them all, otherwise I should have 
given great offence. My little boy appeared to be 
very fond of his new mother, kept as near me as 
possible while I staid, and when I told him I must 
go, he fell as though he had been knocked down 
with a club. But, having recommended him to the 
care of Him that made him, when the day was far 
spent, and the time would permit me to stay no 
longer, I departed, you may well suppose with a 
heavy load at my heart. The tidings I had received 
of the death of my youngest child had, a little be- 
fore, been confirmed to me beyond a doubt ; but I 
could not mourn so heartily for the deceased as for 
the living child. 

When the winter broke up, we removed to St. 
John's ; and through the ensuing summer our prin- 
cipal residence was at no great distance from the 
fort at that place. In the mean time, however, my 
sister's husband, having been out with a scouting 
party to some of the English settlements, had a 
drunken frolic at the fort when he returned. His 
wife, who never got drunk, but had often experi- 
enced the ill effects of her husband's intemperance, 
fearing what the consequence might prove if he 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 85 

should come home in a morose and turbulent humor, 
to avoid his insolence, proposed that we should both 
retire, and keep out of the reach of it until the 
storm abated. We absconded, accordingly ; but it 
so happened that I returned and ventured into his 
presence before his wife had presumed to come nigh 
him. I found him in his wigwam, and in a surly- 
mood ; and not being able to revenge upon his wife, 
because she was not at home, he laid hold of me, 
and hurried me to the fort, and, for a trifling con- 
sideration, sold me to a French gentleman whose 
name was Saccapee. " 'Tis an ill wind certainly 
that blows nobody any good." I had been with the 
Indians a year lacking fourteen days ; and if not 
for my sister, yet for me 'twas a lucky circumstance 
indeed which thus at last, in an unexpected moment, 
snatched me out of their cruel hands, and placed 
me beyond the reach of their insolent power. 

After my Indian master had disposed of me in 
the manner related above, and the moment of sober 
reflection had arrived, perceiving that the man who 
bought me had taken the advantage of him in an 
unguarded hour, his resentment began to kindle, 
and his indignation rose so high that he threatened 
to kill me if he should meet me alone, or, if he 
could not revenge himself thus, that he would set 
fire to the fort. I was therefore secreted in an 
upper chamber, and the fort carefully guarded, until 
his wrath had time to cool. My service in the fam- 
ily to which I was now advanced was perfect free- 
dom in comparison of what it had been among the 
8 



86 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

barbarous Indians. My new master and mistress 
were both as kind and generous towards me as I 
could any ways expect. I seldom asked a favor of 
either of them but it was readily granted ; in con- 
sequence of which I had it in my power in many 
instances to administer aid and refreshment to the 
poor prisoners of my own nation who were brought 
into St. John's during my abode in the family of the 
above-mentioned benevolent and hospitable Sacca- 
pee. Yet even in this family such trials awaited 
me as I had little reason to expect ; but I stood in 
need of a large stock of prudence to enable me to 
encounter them. Must I tell you, then, that even 
the good old man himself, who considered me as his 
property, and likewise a warm and resolute son of 
his, at that same time, and under the same roof, be- 
came both excessively fond of my company ? so that 
between these two rivals — the father and the son 
— I found myself in a very critical situation in- 
deed, and was greatly embarrassed and perplexed, 
hardly knowing many times how to behave in such 
a manner as at once to secure my OAvn virtue and 
the good esteem of the family in which I resided, 
and upon which I was wholly dependent for my 
daily support. At length, however, through the 
tender compassion of a certain English gentleman,* 
the governor, De Vaudreuil, being made acquainted 
with the condition I had fallen into, immediately 
ordered the young and amorous Saccapee, then an 
officer in the French army, from the field of Yenus 

* Colonel Peter Schuyler, then a prisoner. 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 87 

to the field of Mars, and at the same time also -wrote 
a letter to his father, enjoining it upon him by no 
means to suffer me to be abused, but to make my 
situation and service in his family as easy and de- 
lightful as possible. I was, moreover, under un- 
speakable obligations to the governor upon another 
account. I had received intelligence from my daugh- 
ter Mary, the purport of which was, that there was 
a prospect of her being shortly married to a young 
Indian of the tribe of St. Francis, with which tribe 
she had continued from the beginning of her cap- 
tivity. These were heavy tidings, and added greatly 
to the poignancy of my other afflictions. However, 
not long after I had heard this melancholy news, an 
opportunity presented of acquainting that humane 
and generous gentleman, the commander-in-chief, 
and my illustrious benefactor, with this affair also, 
who, in compassion for my sufferings, and to miti- 
gate my sorrows, issued his orders in good time, 
and had my daughter taken away from the Indians, 
and conveyed to the same nunnery where her sister 
was then lodged, with his express injunction that 
they should both of them together be well looked 
after and carefully educated, as his adopted chil- 
dren. In this school of superstition and bigotry 
they continued while the war in those days between 
France and Great Britain lasted ; at the conclusion 
of which war the governor went home to France, 
took my oldest daughter along with him, and mar- 
ried her to a French gentleman, whose name is Cron 
Louis. He was at Boston with the fleet under 



«8 THE CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS 

Count d'Estaing, (1778,) as one of his clerks. My 
other daughter still continuing in the nunnery, a 
considerable time had elapsed after my return from 
captivity, when I made a journey to Canada, resolv- 
ing to use my best endeavors not to return without 
her. I arrived just in time to prevent her being 
sent to France. She was to have gone in the next 
vessel that sailed for that place ; and I found it ex- 
tremely difficult to prevail with her to quit the nun- 
nery and go home with me ; yea, she absolutely 
refused ; and all the persuasions and arguments I 
could use with her were to no effect until after I 
had been to the governor and obtained a letter from 
him to the superintendent of the nuns, in which he 
threatened, if my daughter should not be immediately 
delivered into my hands, or could not be prevailed 
with to submit to my maternal authority, that he 
would send a band of soldiers to assist me in bring- 
ing her away. Upon hearing this, she made no fur- 
ther resistance ; but so extremely bigoted was she 
to the customs and religion of the place, that, after 
all, she left it with the greatest reluctance and the 
most bitter lamentations, which she continued as we 
passed the streets, and wholly refused to be com- 
forted. My good friend. Major Small, whom we 
met with on the way, tried all he could to console 
her, and was so very kind and obliging as to bear 
us company, and carry my daughter behind him on 
horseback. 

But I -have run on a little before my story, for I 
have not yet informed you of the means and man- 



OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE. 89 

ner of my own redemption, to the accomplishing of 
which, the recovery of my daughter, just mentioned, 
aiid the ransoming of some of my other children, 
several gentlemen of note contributed not a little ; 
to whose goodness, therefore, I am greatly indebted, 
and sincerely hope I shall never be so ungrateful as 
to forget. Colonel Schuyler, in particular, was so 
very kind and generous as to advance two thousand 
seven hundred livres to procure a ransom for myself 
and three of my children. He accompanied and 
conducted us from Montreal to Albany, and enter- 
tained us in the most friendly and hospitable man- 
ner a considerable time at his own house, and I 
believe entirely at his own expense. 

I have spun out the above narrative to a much 
greater length than I at first intended, and shall 
conclude it with referring you for a more ample and 
brilliant account of the captive heroine who is the 
subject of it to Colonel Humphrey's History of the 
Life of General Israel Putnam, together with some 
remarks upon a few clauses in it. I never indeed 
had the pleasure of perusing the whole of said his- 
tory, but remember to have seen, some time ago, an 
extract from it in one of the Boston newspapers, in 
^v^hich the colonel has extolled the beauty, and good 
sense, and rare accomplishments of Mrs. Howe, the 
person whom he endeavors to paint in the most 
lively and engaging colors, perhaps a little too 
highly, and in a style that may appear to those who 
are acquainted with her to this day romantic and 
8* 



90 CAPTIVITY AND SUFFERINGS OF MRS. HOWE. 

extravagant; and the colonel must needs have been 
misinformed with respect to some particulars that 
he has mentioned in her history. Indeed, when I 
read the extract from his history to Mrs. Tute, 
(which name she has derived from a third husband, 
whose widow she now remains,) she seemed to be 
well pleased, and said at first it was all true, but 
soon after contradicted the circumstance of her 
lover's being so bereft of his senses, when he saw 
her moving off in a boat at some distance from the 
shore, as to plunge into the water after her, in con- 
sequence of which he was seen no more. It is true, 
she said, that as she was returning from Montreal to 
Albany, she met with young Saccapee on the way ; 
that she was in a boat with Colonel Schuyler ; that 
the French ofiicer came on board the boat, made her 
some handsome presents, took his final leave of her, 
and departed, to outward appearance in tolerable 
good humor. 

She moreover says that when she went to Canada 
for her daughter, she met with him again ; that he 
showed her a lock of her hair, and her name, like- 
wise, printed with vermilion on his arm. As to her 
being chosen agent to go to Europe, in behalf of 
the people of Hinsdale, when Colonel Howard ob- 
tained from the government of New York a patent 
of their lands on the west side of Connecticut River, 
it was never once thought of by Hinsdale people 
until the above-mentioned extract arrived among 
them, in which the author has inserted it as a mat- 
ter of undoubted fact. 



HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY, 



Among the marvellous instances of courageous 
venture and good fortune which are presented to 
us in the history of the old days of Indian warfare, 
nothing is more remarkable than the following, 
which, while it is unquestionably true in substance, 
has never, so far as the relator knows, been put in 
print. It has lain now fifty years in the memory 
of the relator, who received it from men who had 
themselves burned gunpowder in Indian wars, and 
who were familiar with the stories, hardships, and 
sufferings of their own sires and grandsires. While 
so many things have been recorded of that great 
friend, fighter, killer, and circumventor of Indians, 
it seems strange that the affair about to be related 
has hitherto escaped the attention of collectors. 

This Hilton had been for many years a particular 
favorite among the red skins, having on various 
occasions done them good turns in their quarrels 
with one another. He had also, much to their ad- 
vantage, at sundry times, stood their true friend in 
the trafl&c carried on by them with the pale faces. 

(91) 



92 HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY. 

But circumstances changed, and Indians and set- 
tlers changed with them. In a time of war it was 
found by the former that all their plans were antici- 
pated and frustrated, and all their stratagems baf- 
fled by the bravery, sagacity, and untiring activity 
of their old friend Hilton. They therefore deter- 
mined, though sorrowfully, on capturing and killing 
him at all hazards. The aged chief, who held in 
grateful memory former days of intimacy, kindness, 
and friendship, with a lip tremulous in spite of de- 
termination, and with an eye moistened in sorrow, 
though fixed and steady as death, said aloud, in 
tones which never yet had failed of bringing to his 
cabin the scalps of the slain, "It must be done! 
Hilton, no longer the red man's friend — Hilton 
must die ! Warriors, ten of you, brave and saga- 
cious men, keen of sight and fleet of foot, go to the 
settlement, nor let me look on your faces again till 
you show me Hilton, living or dead ! Go, warriors, 
go!" 

This time, sure enough, the Indians got the start 
of Hilton. Passing the outposts unobserved, and 
eluding the vigilance of his videttes, they found 
him, as they came in sight of the settlement, busily 
and unconcernedly engaged in hoeing corn in a field 
not far from the fort, while his trusty gun was seen 
leaning against a tree at some distance. 

Their plan was laid at once, which was, to pass 
around through the woods to a point nearest the 
gun, secure that, and then rush upon him and take 
him alive. In this they were successful j being 



I 



HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY. 93 

wholly unobserved by the lookouts of the garrison 
as well as by him, whom alone they wanted to see, 
until the instant of their laying hands on his weap- 
on, when, rising to his full, great height over a 
corn hill, to which he had been stooping for the 
purpose of removing weeds, he beheld them ad- 
vancing upon him. It was a critical moment. 

But Hilton had seen hard spots before, and had 
survived ; and it was his determination to do so in 
this case. Advancing towards them with a quick 
step and easy affability of manner, his hand being 
extended in familiar greeting, ** Oho ! my old friends," 
said he, " is it you ? I am glad to see you — in- 
deed I am — and now what can I do for you ? Will 
you sit here while I go to the house and bring you 
out something good to eat and drink ? " " No, no ! 
Hilton go with Indians — quick, quick ! " said the 
tawny savages. " With all my heart," quoth he. 
" Lead on, my good fellows. This is not the first 
time you and I have tramped the woods together. 
I see how it is — you want me to go and see my 
old friend, your great chief. It is well ; I shall 
rejoice to see him once again." 

Thus glibly and unconcernedly he talked as they 
hurried along the forest path. 

At length, about six miles from the fort, or gar- 
rison, they came to a deserted log cabin, where, 
knowing that they had done their work so adroitly 
as to occasion no alarm in the settlement, they con- 
cluded to stop a while, take some food, and prepare 
themselves for a long march in the forest. 



94 HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY. 

Completely deceived and put off their guard by 
the easy affability and complacent good humor of 
their captive, they carelessly entered the cabin, 
placed their guns in a corner at one end, and began 
to busy themselves, some in preparations for cook- 
ing, and others in mending their moccasons, while 
others still stretched themselves on a pile of straw 
in a distant corner, and went to sleep. Having 
securely fastened the door, and observed that the 
only other place of possible egress was an open 
window at the end near their own party, they gave 
themselves no trouble about Hilton, who walked 
about sociably among them, chatted pleasantly, and 
inquired about their success in hunting, how many 
children they had, and what changes had taken 
place since he was last among them. In the same 
easy way he begged they would allow him to gratify 
his curiosity with a look at their guns, which were 
now all standing together in a corner. To this 
they assented without hesitation. " Fine shooters, 
these, my good fellows," said he, as he took up and 
examined one after another. '' Glad to see you 
so well provided with these kill-deers ; and powder 
and balls, too ; are they plenty with you ? and flints, 
good ! good ! " And so he ran on. 

But the savages, poor doomed wretches, did not 
observe that when he set each gun down again in 
its place, he took care to leave it cocked ; for he 
had seen that all were loaded and primed. 

At length, all being ready — the position of each 
man well marked by an eye which never faltered in 



HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY. 95 

moments of danger — his fearless spirit nerved to 
unusual daring, and to the issue of risks in which 
a life was to be won by ten deaths — with the stern 
purpose of a man whose soul was filled with the 
certainty of one thing, namely, that either he or ten 
Indians must bite the dust — cool in purpose, but 
quicker than lightning in action, he began. Bang I 
bang ! bang ! Down came a tall fellow — up sprang 
another from the straw, only to come down again 
with his death wound ; here reeled one to the wall, 
but gasped and fell ; there sprawled another, who 
had nearly clutched our hero ; another tumbled into 
the fire, on the coals of which he was broiling a 
piece of meat ; upon the head of another, who was 
coming on too quick for him, he dealt a levelling 
blow with a gun, which had just sent lead through 
the heart of a brawny foe. And so with unshrink- 
ing purpose, a true eye, and a hand quicker than 
the lightning's flash, he either killed or disabled all 
but one. That one plunged through the open win- 
dow, and was soon lost in the thick shadows of the 
forest. He, after wandering many days, as was 
afterwards ascertained, and being near perishing by 
hunger, regained his tribe — the sole messenger of 
that terrible destruction which had come down upon 
his party on the very day of success. 

As for Hilton, he did not want for trophies of 
his prowess. The reader needs not be told what he 
did with the wounded, and may himself judge whether 
the little garrison would be willing to furnish hos- 
pital comforts to murderous savages. The weapons 



96 HILTON, OF FAMOUS MEMORY. 

of death he gathered up, took them on his shoulder, 
and without losing a hair of his head, marched in 
.triumph to meet his friends, who by this time had 
discovered that he was missing from the field. 

The reader will please to allow his imagination 
large scope, when he thinks of the rejoicings of 
young and old when Hilton told the story of his 
afternoon's work. 



INDIAN FUN. 

One of the earliest settlers around Lake Cham- 
plain was Colonel Edward Raymun. He under- 
stood the character and disposition of the natives 
of the forest, and lived with them in much harmony, 
frequently employing them to row him up and down 
the lake, as he had occasion. One stout fellow, by 
the name of Big Bear, had his wigwam at no great 
distance from the colonel's dwelling, and was often 
there. The colonel, having occasion to visit some 
distant shore of the lake, employed Big Bear to 
row him in his canoe. On their return, they passed 
near a high yet sloping ledge of rocks, on which lay 
an immense number of rattlesnakes asleep and bask- 
ing in the sun. The Indian gave a penetrating look 
at the colonel, and thus inquired : " Raymun love 
fun ? " " Yes," was the reply. " Well, then, Ray- 
mun have fun ; mind Indian, and hold a glum." So 
he rowed along, silent and slow, and cut a crotch 
stick from a bunch of hazels upon the bank. 
"Steady, now, hold a glum, Raymun," said he, as 
he clapped the crotch astride the neck of a serpent 
that was asleep close to the edge of the water. 
" Take um now, Raymun ; hold fass." The colonel 
then took hold of the stick keeping the serpent 
9 (9") 



98 INDIAN FUN. 

down, while Big Bear tied up a little sack of pow- 
der, putting one end of a slow match therein. He 
then made it fast to the snake's tail, and, touching 
fire to the match, gave orders to " let um go," at the 
same time pushing off from the shore ; the snake, 
being liberated, crawled away to his den. The In- 
dian then immediately stood up, clapped his hands, 
making as loud a noise as possible, and thus roused 
the serpents, who all in a moment disappeared. 
" Now look, Eaymun, now look ; see fun," said he ; 
and in about a minute the powder exploded, when 
there was, to be sure, fun alive. The snakes, in 
thousands, covered the rocks, all hissing, rattling, 
twining, twirling, and jumping every way imagina- 
ble. Colonel Raymun burst into a loud laugh, that 
echoed across the lake, pleased alike at the success 
of the trick and the ingenuity of the savage's inven- 
tion. But Big Bear, from the beginning to the end, 
was as grave as a judge, not moving a muscle, and 
not having the least show of risibility in his coun- 
tenance. This is truly characteristic of the Amer- 
ican aborigines ; what causes the excitability of 
laughter in others has no effect upon them ; they 
may love fun, but never, in the smallest degree, ex- 
hibit that character in their looks. 



THE HEADLESS SPECTRE. 

EXTRACTED FROM THE MANUSCRIPT AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF IRA 
ALLEN, OF VERMONTT, NOW IN THE HANTDS OF HENRY STE- 
PHENS, ESQ., OF BARNET, VT. IRA ALLEN WAS A BROTHER 
OF THE CELEBRATED COLONEL ETILVN ALLEN. 

1770. 

Mr. and Mrs. Mclntire were from Scotland, and 
had two daughters about twenty-four years of age. 
The old lady and her daughters used to amuse me 
by telling many frightful stories respecting ghosts, 
apparitions, &c., appearing to people in Scotland, 
amongst which were many stories respecting an old 
woman appearing without a head. One evening I 
challenged the old woman without a head, and all 
the ghosts, to meet me at any time and place they 
chose. This exceedingly alarmed my honest land- 
lady and daughters, and they all seemed exceeding 
anxious for my safety, for being so presumptuous as 
to make such a challenge, and not doubting but that 
I should meet with difficulty the first time I should 
be belated in the woods. The next day I found a 
part of my hogs had strayed away and become wild ; 
with all the art I had, I could not get them so gen- 
tle that I could approacli them till near dark, at 

(99) 

LOFC 



100 THE HEADLESS SPECTEE. 

which time I was at least three miles in the wilder- 
ness. There was then a snow on the ground about 
four inches deep. I made the best of my way to 
gain a footpath from Mr. Mclntire's to a beaver 
meadow. lu the way I passed a thicket of hemlock, 
under which it was dark. I cut a staff about three 
feet long, to defend my eyes from limbs that might 
come in my face. In this way I found the footpath. 
In this several loads of hay had been carried from 
the meadow to the house, which had mixed the 
leaves and snow, so that I could discover the foot- 
path for twenty rods before me. Then, for the first 
time that night, I thought of the old woman with- 
out any head ; at which I had a hearty laugh, think- 
ing whether I should turn out if she met me in 
that narrow path. I thought no more of the matter 
till I had walked about one mile, when, to my no 
small surprise, at about eight rods' distance, I dis- 
covered in the path the perfect appearance of a 
woman without a head ; her shoulders, waist, arms 
akimbo, her hands on her hips, woman's clothes, and 
feet below were in perfect shape before me ; all 
which I viewed with astonishment. 

I reasoned to myself — Is this appearance ficti- 
tious or real ? If the God of nature authorizes appa- 
ritions, then there is no flying from them. What 
injury can they possibly do me ? I have promised 
faithfully not to flinch at any such appearance ; I 
will see it out. On this determination I kicked the 
snow away, that I might know where I made the 
discovery, and advanced with my cane in hand for 



THE HEADLESS SPECTRE. 101 

a blow as soon as I arrived near enough. With 
trembling approaches I came within about thirty 
yards, before I discovered the cause of such an ap- 
pearance. The facts were, that a tree had been 
broken by the wind, leaving a stump, which the 
woodcocks had pecked the bark from in that shape 
so long that the wood had become whitish. The 
bark of the other part had fallen off. The dark- 
ness of the night prevented me from seeing the 
darker color, while the bright snow shone from 
the other part of the stump, forming the size and 
figure of a headless woman. To satisfy myself, I 
went back to where I had kicked away the snow, 
and the old woman again appeared in perfect shape. 
I occasionally passed that place afterwards, but not 
at a time when such an opportunity could be discov- 
ered. Had I been frightened, and run away, I might, 
like others, have believed in spectral appearances. 
9* 



ATTACK UPON NUMBER FOUR. 

(CHABLESTOWN, N. H.) 

1747. 

In the latter end of March, Captain Phineas Ste- 
vens, who commanded a ranging company of thirty 
men, came to Number Four, the place now called 
Charlestown. It had been garrisoned by the small 
force of six men ; but even these had deserted it in 
the previous winter, and for two months it was en- 
tirely destitute of occupants. Captain Stevens, 
finding the fort entire, determined to keep posses- 
sion of it. He had not been there many days when 
he was attacked by a very large party of French 
and Indians, commanded by M. Debeline. The 
dogs, by their barking, discovered that the enemy 
were near, which caused the gate to be kept shut 
beyond the usual time. One man went out to make 
discovery, and was fired on, but returned with a 
slight wound only. The enemy, finding that they 
were discovered, arose from their concealment, and 
fired at the fort on all sides. The wind being high, 
they set fire to the fences and log houses, till the 
fort was surrounded by flames. Captain Stevens 
took the most prudent measures for his security, 

(102) 



ATTACK UPON NUMBER FOUR. 103 

keeping every vessel full of water, and digging 
trenches under the walls in several places, so that 
a man might creep through and extinguish any fire 
which might catch on the outside of the walls. The 
fire of the fences did not reach the fort, nor did the 
flaming arrows which they incessantly shot against 
it take effect. Having continued this mode of 
attack for two days, accompanied with hideous 
shouts and yells, they prepared a wheel carriage, 
loaded with dry fagots, to be pushed before them, 
"that they might set fire to the fort. Before they 
proceeded to this operation, they demanded a cessa- 
tion of arms till the sun rising, which was granted. 
In the morning, Debeline came up with fifty men 
and a flag of truce, which he stuck in the ground. 
He demanded a parley, which was agreed to. A 
French officer, with a soldier and an Indian, then 
advanced, and proposed that the garrison should 
bind up a quantity of provisions with their blan- 
kets, and, having laid down their arms, should be 
conducted prisoners to Montreal. Another pro- 
posal was, that the two commanders should meet, 
and that an answer should then be given. Stevens 
met the French commander, who, without waiting 
for an answer, began to enforce his proposal by 
threatening to storm the fort and put every man to 
death, if they should refuse his terms and kill one 
of his men. Stevens answered that he could hearken 
to no terms till the last extremity ; that he was in- 
trusted with the defence of the fort, and was deter- 



104 ATTACK UPON NUMBER FOUR. 

mined to maintain it till he should be convinced 
that the Frenchman could perform what he had 
threatened. He added that it was poor encourage- 
ment to surrenderfif they were all to be put to the 
sword for killing one man, when it was probable 
they had already killed more. The Frenchman 
replied, " Go and see if your men dare to fight any 
longer, and give me a quick answer." Stevens 
returned and asked his men whether they would 
fight or surrender. They unanimously determined 
to fight. This was immediately made known to the 
enemy, who renewed their shouting and firing all 
that day and night. On the morning of the third 
day they requested another cessation for two hours. 
Two Indians came with a flag, and proposed that if 
Stevens would sell them provisions, they would with- 
draw. He answered that to sell them provisions 
for money was contrary to the law of nations ; but 
that he would pay them five bushels of corn for 
every captive for whom they would give a hostage, 
till the captive could be brought from Canada. 
After this answer a few guns were fired, and the 
enemy were seen no more. 

In this furious attack from a starving enemy, no 
lives were lost in the fort, and two men only were 
wounded. No men could have behaved with more 
intrepidity in the midst of such threatening danger. 
An express was immediately despatched to Boston, 
and the news was there received with great joy. 
Commodore Sir Charles Knowles was so highly 



ATTACK UPON NUMBER FOUR. 105 

pleased with tlie conduct of Captain Stevens that 
he presented him with a valuable and elegant sword, 
as a reward for his bravery. From this circum- 
stance the township, when it was incorporated, took 
the name of Charlestown. 



THE INDIANS AT WAR: THEIR USAGES 
AND CUSTOMS. 

FROM THE "natural AND CIVIL HISTORY OF \T:RM0NT," BY 
SAMUEL WILLIAMS, LL. D. 

The civil regulations of the savages were all de- 
signed to qualify and prepare them for war. Among 
the causes that led to this, an opposition of interests 
was the most common and powerful. No people 
ever had more clear or more just ideas of their own 
rights and property than the Indians. They not 
only understood their own personal rights, but they 
were perfectly well acquainted with the rights and 
property that were vested in the tribe. Each tribe 
claimed the soil in their own domains. This right 
was viewed as complete, perfect, and exclusive — 
such as entitled them to the full and entire posses- 
sion, and to oppose by force and violence all en- 
croachments upon the soil or game in any part of 
their territories. The bounds of these territories 
were extensive and ill defined. Real or supposed 
encroachments and injuries were constantly taking 
place. Hence arose innumerable subjects of dis- 
pute and controversy, which easily i»flamed the 
fierceness of the savage temper, and brought on 
mutual injuries, reproaches, hostilities, and war. In 

(106) 



THE INDIANS AT WAR. 107 

this state most of the Indian tribes were found. 
Interest had become a source of discord among the 
neighboring tribes. From this cause arose most of 
their inveterate and perpetual wars. 

The manner in which the Indians carry on their 
wars is very different from that of civilized nations. 
To defend themselves against an enemy they have 
no other fortification but an irregular kind of for- 
tress, which they call a castle or fort. It consisted 
of a square, without bastions, surrounded with pali- 
sades. This was erected where tlie most consider- 
able number of the tribe resided, and was designed 
as an asylum for their old men, their women and 
children, while the rest of the tribe were gone out 
to war. The weapons of the Indian were a club 
made of hard wood, a bow and arrow. Thus armed, 
the Indian takes with him a small bag of corn, and 
is completely equipped for a campaign. When he 
takes the field, it is with such a number of warriors 
as the tribe can supply. During their march they 
are dispersed in straggling companies, that they may 
better supply themselves by hunting. When they 
approach near to the enemies' frontiers, their troops 
are more collected ; all is then caution, stratagem, 
secrecy, and ambuscade. Their employment as 
hunters has taught them great address and vigilance 
in following and surprising the game. Their mode 
of war is the same as that of hunting. With great 
ingenuity they will find and follow the track of 
their enemies ; with a surprising patience and per- 
severance they will wait for the moment when they 



108 THE INDIANS AT WAR. 

find him the least able to defend himself ; and when 
they can find an enemy unprepared, they make their 
attack with great fury and with pretty sure success. 
In their battles they always endeavor to secure 
themselves behind the trees or rocks, and never 
meet their enemy in the open field, or upon equal 
terras, if they can avoid it. The method of the 
Europeans, of deciding a battle in the open field, 
they regard as extreme folly and want of prudence. 
Their established maxims are, to obtain a superior- 
ity in situation, numbers, concealment, or some other 
circumstance, before the battle ; in this way to pre- 
serve the lives of their own party, and destroy their 
enemies, with as little loss as possible to themselves. 
A victory obtained with the loss of many of their 
own party is a matter of grief and disgrace, rather 
than of exultation ; and it is no honor to fall in the 
field of battle, but viewed rather as an evidence of 
a want of wisdom, discernment, and circumspection. 
When the attack is to be made, nothing can exceed 
the courage and impetuosity of the savage. The 
onset begins with a general outcry, terminating in a 
universal yell. Of all the sounds that discord has 
produced, the Indian war whoop is the most awful 
and horrid. It is designed and adapted to increase 
the ardor of those who make the attack, and to 
carry terror and horror into the feelings of those 
on whom the attack is made. The Indians immedi- 
ately come forward, and begin the scene of outrage 
and death. All is then a scene of fury, impetuosity, 
and vengeance. So great is the rage of the savage, 



THEIR USAGES AND CUSTOMS. 109 

that he has no regard to discipline, subordination, 
and order. Kevenge takes an entire possession of 
his soul ; forgetful of all order, regardless of disci- 
pline and danger, he aims only to butcher and de- 
stroy. If the Indians remain masters of the field, 
they always strip and scalp the dead. Leaving the 
bodies of their enemies naked, unburied, and often 
mangled, they carry off the plunder and scalps, and 
make a very swift and sudden retreat. Upon their 
approach to their own tribe, a herald is sent for- 
ward to announce the event ; the tribe is collected, 
and the conquerors make their entry with their en- 
signs of triumph ; the scalps, stretched upon a bow, 
and elevated upon a pole, are carried before them, 
as the tokens of their valor and success, and monu- 
ments of tlje vengeance they have inflicted upon the 
enemies of their country. 

The prisoners which they have taken make an 
important part of their triumph. The savages are 
anxious to take as many of these as possible. Dur- 
ing their march, they are generally treated with a 
degree of humanity and kindness ; but the greatest 
care is taken to prevent their escape. When they 
arrive at the place of their destination, the old men, 
women, and children of the Indian tribe form them- 
selves into two lines, through which the prisoners 
must run the gantlet to the village. If the prisoner 
is young, active, and a good runner, he makes his 
way through the lines without receiving much injury. 
If he is weak, old, and infirm, he receives much dam- 
age by the blows, stripes, and bruises laid upon him. 
10 



110 THE INDIANS AT WAR : 

When this scene is finished, the prisoners are con- 
ducted to the village, treated with apparent good 
humor, and fed as well as the Indians' fare admits. 

To the village thus assembled the head warrior 
of the party relates every particular of the expedi- 
tion. "When he mentions their losses, a bitter grief 
and sorrow appears in the whole assembly. When 
he pronounces the names of the dead, their wives, 
relations, and friends put forth the most bitter 
shrieks and cries. But no one asks any question, or 
interrupts the speaker with any inquiry. The last 
ceremony is to proclaim the victory. Every indi- 
vidual forgets his own loss and misfortune, and joins 
in the triumph of his nation. Their tears cease, and 
with one of the most unaccountable transitions in 
human nature, they pass at once from the bitterness 
of sorrow to all the extravagance of joy. The 
whole concludes with a savage feast, songs, and 
dance. 

The fate of the prisoners is next to be decided. 
The elders and chiefs assemble and deliberate con- 
cerning their destiny. The women and children are 
disposed of according to the pleasure of their cap- 
tors ; but they are seldom or never put to torture 
or death. Of the men, some are appointed to sup- 
ply the places of such Indians as have fallen in 
battle. These are delivered to their friends and 
relations, and if they are received by them, they 
have no sufferings to fear ; they are adopted into 
the family, and succeed to all the privileges of the 
deceased, and are esteemed as friends, brothers, and 



THEIR USAGES AND CUSTOMS. HI 

near relations. But if they are not received and 
admitted into the family, or if they are destined to 
be put to death, a most distressing and horrid scene 
ensues. 

A stake is fixed firmly in the ground ; at the dis- 
tance of eight or ten feet, dry wood, leaves, and 
fagots are placed in a circle round the stake, and 
the whole village is collected, to bear their part in 
the tragedy which is to ensue. The prisoner is led 
to the stake, and tied to it by his hands, in such a 
manner that he may move freely round it. Fire is 
set to the wood, that, as it runs round the circle, 
the unhappy victim may be forced to run the same 
way. As the sufferings of the prisoner begin to 
become severe, the acclamations of the spectators 
commence. The men, women, and children strive 
to exceed each other in finding out new and keener 
methods of torment. Some apply red hot irons, 
others stab and cut with their knives, others mangle 
and tear off the flesh ; others again bite off the 
nails and joints, or twist and tear the sinews. Every 
species and degree of cruelty that savage rancor 
and revenge can invent and apply is tried upon the 
wretched sufferer ; but great care is taken that the 
vital parts may not be so injured as to bring the 
torments of the victim to a speedy end. In this 
horrid situation, the sufferer is undaunted and in- 
trepid. He reviles and insults his tormentors. He 
accuses them of cowardice, meanness, and want of 
spirit ; as ignorant, unskilful, and destitute of inge- 
nuity and invention in the art of tormenting. Not 



112 THE INDIANS AT WAR : 

a groan, a sigh, a tear, or a sorrowful look, is suf- 
fered to escape him. To insult his tormentors, to 
display undaunted and unalterable fortitude in this 
dreadful situation, is the most noble of all the tri- 
umphs of the warrior. With an unaltered counte- 
nance, and with the decisive tone of dignity and 
superior importance, the hero proceeds with great 
calmness to sing the song of his death : — 

'' Intrepid and brave, I feel no pain and I fear no 
torture. I have slain, I have conquered, I have 
burnt mine enemies, and my countrymen will avenge 
my blood. Ye are a nation of dogs, of cowards, 
and women. Ye know not how to conquer, to suf- 
fer, or to torture. Prolong and increase ray tor- 
ments, that ye may learn from my example how to 
suffer and behave like men." 

"With such unconquerable magnanimity and forti- 
tude the sufferer perseveres, under every method of 
torment and torture. Wearied with cruelty, and 
tired with tormenting a man whose fortitude they 
cannot move, one of the chiefs, in a rage, concludes 
the scene by knocking the prisoner on the head, or 
stabbing him to the heart. 

These scenes, however, were not common. They 
seem to have been a kind of honor reserved for the 
warriors, and were the trials of their courage and 
fortitude ; and nothing was esteemed more base and 
ignominious than to shrink from them, or to show 
any sense of fear or pain under them. 

When the prisoners were adopted into the tribe 
of the conquerors, nothing could exceed the kind- 



THEIR USAGES AND CUSTOMS. 113 

ness and affection with which they were treated. 
All distinction of tribes was forgotten ; they held 
the same rank as the deceased person whose place 
they filled, and were treated with all the tenderness 
due to the husband, the brother, tlie child, or friend ; 
and it was generally the case that the savages avoid- 
ed abuse and cruelty to the women and children that 
fell into their hands. 

The Indian method of carrying on a war was so 
contrary to the maxims and customs of all civilized 
nations, that some of the European writers, judging 
from their own customs, have concluded it was 
founded on cowardice, and arose from an ignoble 
and timid spirit, afraid to meet its opposers on equal 
ground, and depending wholly on craft, and not at 
all on courage and firmness of mind. No conclu- 
sion was ever farther from the truth. When placed 
in a critical and dangerous situation, no people ever 
discovered more valor, firmness, and intrepidity. 
When subdued, an Indian was never known to ask 
for his life. When compelled to suffer, the Indian 
bore it with a steadiness, a fortitude, and a magna- 
nimity unknown to all other nations, and of which 
there are no examples in the history of war. His 
method of war did not arise from a sense and fear 
of danger ; he was well acquainted, and always in 
the midst of this ; but it arose from his situation 
and employment, and was perfectly well adapted to 
it. From his situation and employment as a hunter, 
he acquired the art of ambuscade and surprise ; and 
the method with which he could best succeed in 
10* 



114 TFIE INDIANS AT WAR I 

taking liis game he found to be the most successful 
to insnare and overcome his enemy. The situation 
and state of the country, overspread with thick for- 
ests, led to the same method. The situation of the 
tribe, scattered and dispersed in the woods, sug- 
gested the same idea. The method of fighting 
could not be in the open fields, but among the trees ; 
and he wisely placed the point of honor in the pub- 
lic good, where the prospect and probability of his 
success lay. Had the honor of the Indian warrior 
been placed in courting fame and victory in the 
open field, the whole tribe would have been de- 
stroyed by the effusion of blood that must have 
succeeded. His maxims, therefore, were better 
chosen, and they were such as every circumstance in 
his situation and employment naturally led him to ; 
not in a useless ostentation of daring courage and 
boldness, but in the public utility and advantage. 
So far as an enterprise depended on secrecy, subtle- 
ty, surprise, and impetuosity, the Indian method of 
war seems to have been fully equal to the European. 
The Spaniards, the French, the English, and the 
States of America have had many and painful proofs 
of their address and prowess in this method. But 
when a fort was erected, or a small fortification to 
be carried, the Indian method of war wholly failed. 
Neither their arms, their arts, nor their customs 
were of any avail here. Wholly unacquainted with 
the art of fortification, they could neither erect nor 
take a fort of any strength. When the Europeans 
had once got possession of any part of their coun- 



THEIR USAGES AND CUSTOMS. 115 

try, and erected a small fortification in their terri- 
tories, they held it by a sure possession. The sav- 
ages were wholly unable to dispossess them by their 
method of war, and nothing was left for them but 
to retreat farther into the forests. In this way the 
English and French were making constant advances 
into their country ; and their art of war afforded 
them no sufficient means either to prevent or to 
redress it. But when the Europeans followed them 
into the woods, where their strength and art might 
be employed to advantage, the Indians generally 
surprised and defeated their armies, with great 
havoc and slaughter. 



A WITCH STOEY OF OLDEN TIME. 

ORIGINAL. A. C. 

It is sometimes curious to recall to mind stories 
which were believed and currently reported a hun- 
dred and more years ago by the sturdy founders of 
our nation, who, though men fit to grapple with all 
earthly dangers, to fight the bloody Indians, or the 
wild beasts of the forest, were, notwithstanding, 
affected with many little weaknesses. Among these 
may be mentioned particularly a fear of the super- 
natural, to which agency they ascribed every strange 
or unusual occurrence. 

The following incident was related to the writer 
by a descendant of the principal actor in the affair. 

About the year 1740, a certain man by the name 
of Jones built a house for himself and family in a 
clearing he had cultivated in the middle of the State 
of New Hampshire. The family having moved into 
the house, a single week sufficed to prove that the 
house was haunted. Strange noises were heard 
throughout the house, and whenever any one dared 
to open his eyes at the " still and witching hour of 
midnight," startling and inexplicable sights were 
seen. The family naturally became much alarmed, 
and dared not remain longer in the house. These 

(116) 



A WITCH STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 117 

facts, being noisGd abroad, excited a great deal of 
remark and wonderment. Some proposed to have 
tbe spirits exorcised ; but a man named Turner 
finally offered his services to quell the disturbance, 
and clear the house of its ghastly visitants. He 
declared that he cared for nothing earthly or un- 
earthly ; so, both for the purpose of proving his 
bravery and of ascertaining the cause of the dis- 
turbance, it was determined that he should sleep in 
the house, and see the matter through. 

The family of Mr. Jones departed on a visit to 
their friends, and in came Turner to sleep as agreed. 
The house was of one story, consisting of a kitchen, 
sitting room, and bed room on the ground floor, and 
an unfurnished loft above, reached by a ladder. On 
the night in question. Turner, having replenished 
the fire in the enormous fireplace — one of those 
comfortable fireplaces which an old-fashioned kitchen 
always contained, and which occupied nearly the 
whole of one side of the room — Turner, I say, 
having rolled on some logs, sat a while in the chim- 
ney corner, his elbows resting on his knees, as he 
gazed at the burning brands. Tongues of flame 
leaped from the smoking logs, and whirled away up 
the chimney ; and their roaring, as they disap- 
peared, seemed changed to unearthly tones — now 
soft and musical, now hoarse and low, like distant 
thunder. The roaring of the wind among the pines 
near by mingled with that of the fire, and increased 
the excitement of Turner's imagination. Strange 
shapes appeared to rise from the flames, and nod 



]18 A WITCH STORY OF 01. DEN TfMK. 

and brandish thoir arrnn around, then sink, only to 
be succeeded by others Htill more fearful. The fit- 
ful fleams cast a ghantly ii^^ht over the remoter 
parts of the room. The shadows on the wall joined 
hands, and moved around in solemn silence. 

Turner sat in his lonely revery until the sticks he 
had thrown upon the fire were nearly consumed, and 
the flames were just dying away ; then, rousing up, 
he bethought himself of his old reputation for cour- 
age. Kather than be exposed to the sneers of his 
neighbors, he was ready to meet ten thousand ghosts. 
He threw on some fresh fuel, and went to bed. 

The bedroom opened immediately out of the 
kitchen, where he had been sitting. Leaving the 
door open, he lay down to sleep, and remained undis- 
turbed till about midnight, when a slight noise caused 
him to open his eyes. Looking through the open 
door into the kitchen, ho beheld, with momentary 
horror, a cat sitting on the hearth and gazing dire- 
ful ly at him with eyes like two balls of fire, as large 
as a man's fist. Turner was really a brave man. 
lie (juickly expelled from his bosom the first trace 
of terror, and prepared as quickly to expel his un- 
welcome guest. 

Creeping carefully from the bed to the fireplace, 
— the cat turning all the while so as to face him, — 
he snatched a huge fire shovel, with a handle four 
feet in length, and aiming a blow at the horrid beast 
Ijefore him, struck it with force sufficient to kill any 
thing of earthly mouhl. Strange to say, however, 
the shovel rebounded from tlie cat in a wonderful 



A WITCH KTOIIY OF OLDBN TIME. 119 

manner, almost flying from Turner's hands. It was 
like beating a largo mass of India rubber. Noth- 
ing daunted, lui laid on sstill liardcr, until by dint 
of oft-repeated blows the monster was pushed near 
the outer door, when one more tremendous stroke 
sent the animal sti-ai;z:ht tlirough the middle of the 
oaken planks, wliicli closed up as before. Turner 
instantly sprang to the latch and opened the door ; 
but, wonderful to relate, nothing was in sight. Ho 
looked to the riglit and he look(!d to the left ; but 
nothing could be seen or heard save the tall i)ine 
trees waving and roaring in the stormy blast. 

Going to the barn before breakfast, to attend to 
the stock of the farm, he was surprised to find that 
a promising calf was missing. The barn was con- 
structed tight and secure, and all the doors were 
closed. No mode of egress could be discovered. 
However, as a foilorn hope, h(} searched the pasture 
near by, where he soon heard the faint bleating of a 
calf. He followed the sound, and was led to a log, 
to all af)j)carance sound and solid. This puz/led him ; 
but he (juickly brought an axe and w(;dges, and with 
their aid the log was forced to reveal its secrets. 
The calf was found ni(iely packed in a cavity the 
size of its body. Out it jumped, glad to be released 
from captivity. On a minute examination, Turner 
discovered a knot hole in the side of the barn, lined 
with hair, through which it was evident to all tho 
neighbors — who came in crowds to examine tho 
j)lace — that the animal was drawn. Wo may remark 



120 A WITCH STORY OF OLDEN TIME. 

that the unfortunate calf never thrived afterwards, 
but died soon after, in great pain. 

But we have not finished our story yet. In the 
course of the forenoon, having occasion to go to 
mill, about five miles distant. Turner set off with 
horse and sleigh. When he had passed about half 
this distance, he reached the house of a neighbor, 
whom he saw standing in the door. The man begged 
Turner to step in and see his grandmother, who, he 
said, was taken suddenly ill in the night. On going 
in, what was his amazement to find the old lady 
black and blue from head to foot, as if severely 
bruised in some unusual manner. 

The mystery was here solved. No doubt the old 
woman was the witch who abstracted the calf, and 
shut it up by her wonderful art in the log. No 
doubt it was she also who, in the form of a cat, dis- 
turbed the house of Mr. Jones, and was driven out 
by Turner with such vigor. 

The old woman died the same day. After this 
night we may conclude nothing ever again disturbed 
the haunted house. 



BAKER'S RETREAT. 

FROM THE REV. GRANT POWERS'S "HISTORY OF THE COOS 
COUNTRY." 

Much discussion has arisen at different times in the 
county of Coos, N. H., in relation to the origin of the 
name of Baker's River. It was called by that name 
when the first settlers came on, and it was called so 
in the journal of Captain Powers, in 1754. The 
following tradition, which has come down from the 
earliest settlement, seems fully to explain the source 
from which the name was derived. 

It is said that while Massachusetts was claiming 
the province of New Hampshire, prior to the old 
French war, Massachusetts sent a Captain Baker, 
from old Newbury, at the head of a company, to 
ferret out the Indians, who had their encampment 
somewhere upon the waters of the Pemigewasset. 
.Baker procured a friendly Indian, who led them to 
Plymouth, in New Hampshire. When Baker and his 
party had arrived on these meadows, the friendly 
Indian signified it was now time for every man to 
gird up his loins ; and they did so, moving forward 
with all possible circumspection. When they had 
reached the south bank of Baker's River, near its 
11 (121) 



122 baker's retreat. 

junction with the Pemigewasset, they discovered the 
Indians on the north bank of Baker's River, sport- 
ing in great numbers, secure, as they supposed, from 
the muskets of all " pale faces." Baker and his men 
chose their position, and opened a tremendous fire 
upon the Indians, which was as sudden to them as a 
clap of thunder. Many of the sons of the forest 
fell in death in the midst of their sports. But the 
living disappeared in an instant, and ran to call in 
their hunters. Baker and his men lost no time in 
crossing the river in search of booty. They found 
a rich store of furs deposited in holes dug into the 
bank of the river horizontally, in the manner bank 
swallows make their holes. Having destroyed their 
wigwams and captured their furs. Baker ordered a 
retreat, fearing *that they would soon return in too 
great force to be resisted by his single company. 
And the Indians were fully up to his apprehensions ; 
for, notwithstanding Baker retreated with all expe- 
dition, the Indians collected, and were up with them 
when they had reached a poplar plain in Bridge- 
water, a little south of Walter Webster's tavern. 
A smart skirmish ensued, but the Indians were re- 
pulsed with loss. Notwithstanding this, the friendly 
Indian advised Baker and his men to use all dili- 
gence in their retreat ; for he said their number 
would increase every hour, and that they would 
return to the attack. 

Accordingly Baker pressed on the retreat with 
all possible despatch, and did not allow his men to 
take refreshment after the battle. But when they 



baker's retreat. 123 

came into New Chester, having crossed a stream, 
his men were exhausted, through abstinence, forced 
marches, and hard fighting ; and they resolved they 
could go no farther without food, saying to their 
commander they " might as well fall by the toma- 
hawk as by famine." The captain acquiesced, and 
they prepared to refresh themselves ; but here was 
a call for Indian stratagem. The friendly Indian 
told every man to build as many fires as he could in 
a given time ; for the Indians, if they pursued them, 
would judge of their numbers by the number of 
their fires. He told them, also, that each man should 
make him four or five crotched sticks, and use them 
all in roasting a single piece of pork ; then leave 
an. equal number of wooden forks around each 
fire, and the Indians would infer, if they came up, 
that there were as many of the English as there 
were forks, and this might turn them back. The 
Indian's counsel was followed to the letter, and the 
company moved on with fresh speed. The Indians, 
however, came up while their fires were yet burn- 
ing, and, counting the fires and forks, the warriors 
whooped a retreat, for they were alarmed at the 
number of the English. Baker and his men were 
no longer annoyed by those troublesome attendants ; 
and he attributed their preservation to the counsel 
of the friendly Indian. 



DESTRUCTION OF THE INDIAN VILLAGE 
OF ST. FRANCIS. 

FROM WILLIAMS'S HISTORY OF VERMONT. 

1759. 

In the year 1759 it was thought best to make the 
enemy feel the force and resentment of the English 
colonies. The Indians had not as yet discontinued 
their attempts to disturb and distress the frontiers. 
Among these tribes, none had been more bloody and 
cruel than that of St. Francis. Their village was 
situated on the south side of the River St. Law- 
rence, not far from Trois Rivieres. So early as the 
year 1703, the Governor of Canada had drawn oJff 
a large number of Indians from Penobscot, Nor- 
ridgewock, Saco, Pigwacket, and other parts of the 
eastern country, and settled them at Be§ancour and 
St. Francis. By uniting them with the Indians of 
Canada, he meant to procure a force sufficient to 
protect their own frontiers, and to have always in 
reserve a body of savages well acquainted with the 
English frontiers, and the most favorable times and 
places of carrying desolation among them. The 
event justified his expectations. From none of the 

(124) 



DESTRUCTION OF THE VILLAGE OF ST. FRANCIS. 125 

Indian tribes had the province^ of New Hampshire 
and Massachusetts suffered so much as from the sav- 
ages of this village and tribe. They made their 
incursions through the River St. Francis to Lake 
Memphremagog, and from thence down Connecticut 
River to the English settlements, and had been much 
distinguished by the slaughter and destruction they 
had spread among the advanced settlements, by the 
number of their scalps and captives, and by the 
enormity of their cruelty and barbarity. 

Major Rogers was appointed by General Amherst 
to manage an excursion against this barbarous tribe, 
and to carry the horrors of war into the midst of 
Canada. Rogers was from the province of New 
Hampshire. He commanded a company so early as 
the year 1755, and had become so famous for the 
number, boldness, and success of his enterprises, 
that Lord Loudon had set him at the head of the 
ranging companies, put him upon the British estab- 
lishment and pay, till he rose to the rank of a major. 
Amherst esteemed him a proper person to retaliate 
on an Indian village some of the measures they had 
so often acted against the advanced English forts 
and settlements. The orders which he gave to 
Rogers were expressive of the character and views 
of the English general, and of the sentiments and 
feelings of the English colonies with respect to the 
Indian cruelties.* 

* " OBDEBS FROM SIR JErFREY AMHERST TO MAJOR ROGERS. 

*' You are this night to set out with the detachment, as ordered 
yesterday, (viz., of two hundred men,) and proceed to Missiscoe Bay, 
11* 



126 DESTRUCTION OF THE 

In conformity to his orders, Rogers set out with 
two hundred men in bateaux, and proceeded down 
Lake Champlain. On the fifth day after they left 
Crown Point, they met with a misfortune which 
diminished their numbers. Being encamped on the 
eastern shore of the lake, a keg of gunpowder acci- 
dentally took fire, which in its explosion wounded a 
captain of the royal regiment and several of the 
men. These were sent back to Crown Point, with 
some of the party to conduct them. By this event 
the party was reduced to one hundred and forty-two 
men, ofi&cers included. With this reduced party the 
major proceeded on the expedition, and in seven 
days landed at Missiscoe Bay. Here he concealed 
his boats among the bushes that hung over one of 
the streams, and left in them provisions sufficient 
to carry them back to Crown Point. Two of his 
rangers were appointed to watch the boats, and to 

from whence you will march and attack the enemy's settlements on 
the south side of the River St. LawTence, in such a manner as you 
shall judge most effectual to disgrace the enemy, and for the success 
and honor of his majesty's arms. 

*' Remember the barbarities that have been committed by the enemy's 
Indian scoundrels, on every occasion where they have had an opportu- 
nity of showing their infamous cruelties on the king's subjects, which 
they have done without mercy ; take your revenge ; but do not forget 
that though these villains have dastardly and promiscuously murdered 
the women and childa-en of all orders, it is my orders that no women 
or children be killed or hurt. 

"When you have executed your intended service, you will return 
•with your detachment to camp, or to join me wherever the army 
may be. Yours, &c., 

"Jeffrey Amherst. 

" Camp at Crown Point, September 12, 1759." 



INDIAN VILLAGE OF ST. FRANCIS. 127 

keep themselves concealed till the party should 
return ; or, if the enemy should discover the boats, 
to pursue the track of the party with the greatest 
speed, and give intelligence to the commander. The 
second evening after Rogers left the bay, the two 
trusty rangers overtook the party, and informed 
Rogers that four hundred French and Indians had 
discovered the boats, and sent them away with fifty 
men, and that the remainder were in pursuit of the 
English party. Eogers kept the intelligence to him- 
self, and ordered a lieutenant with eight men and 
these two rangers to proceed to Crown Point, in- 
form the general of what had taken place, and 
request him to send provisions to Coos, (now New- 
bury,) on Connecticut River, by which he meant to 
return. 

Nothing now remained for Rogers but to give up 
the expedition or to outmarch his pursuers. He 
determined on the latter, and pushed forward for 
St. Francis with all the expedition that was possi- 
ble. On the 4th of October, at eight o'clock in 
the evening, he came within sight of the town. 
Ordering his men to halt and refresh themselves, he 
dressed himself in the Indian garb, and took with 
him two Indians who understood the language of 
the St. Francis tribe, and went to reconnoitre the 
town. He found the Indians engaged in a grand 
dance, and without any apprehension of danger. 
At two o'clock in the morning he returned to his 
detachment, and marched them to the distance of 
about five hundred yards from the town. About 



128 DESTRUCTION OP THE 

four o'clock, the Indians broke up their dance, and 
retired to rest. Rogers waited till they were 
asleep, and at break of day he posted his men in 
the most favorable situation, and made a general 
assault. Completely surprised, the Indians were 
soon subdued. Some were killed in their houses, 
and of those who attempted to fly, many were shot 
or knocked on the head by those who were placed 
at the avenues. The Indian method of slaughter 
and destruction was put in practice on this occa- 
sion ; and wherever the Indians were found, their 
men, women, and children were slain without dis- 
tinction and without mercy. The ferocity of the 
proceedings was already extremely violent ; but the 
prospects which appeared at the rising of the sun 
could not but add new force and irritation to the 
feelings and passions of the assailants. As the light 
appeared, the scalps of several hundred of their 
countrymen were seen suspended on poles, and wav- 
ing in the air. These trophies of savage cruelty 
and success could not fail to irritate to the highest 
degree the passions of the provincial soldiers ; they 
meant to avenge the blood of their friends and rela- 
tions, and they spared no pains to make an end of 
the village and of all that they could find of its 
inhabitants. The village contained three hundred 
of the enemy ; two hundred were killed on the spot, 
and twenty taken prisoners. 

The town appeared to have been in a very flourish- 
ing state. The houses were well furnished, and the 
church was handsomely adorned with plate ; the 



INDIAN VILLAGE OF ST. FRANCIS. 129 

whole village had been enriched by the scalps and 
plunder taken from the English. Two hundred 
guineas were found in money, and a silver image 
weighing ten pounds, besides a large quantity of 
wampum, clothing, and some provisions. Collect- 
ing the provisions and such articles as they could 
easily transport, they set fire to the town, and 
reduced it to ashes. At seven o'clock in the morn- 
ing the affair was completely over ; Rogers then 
assembled his men, and found that one was killed, 
and six slightly wounded. Having refreshed his 
men for one hour, the major made no further delay, 
but set out on his return, with the addition of five 
English captives, whom he had retaken, leaving the 
inhabitants slain, and the village reduced to ashes. 

To avoid his pursuers, Rogers now took a dijQTer- 
ent route, and marched up St. Francis River, mean- 
ing to have his men collect and rendezvous at Coos, 
on Connecticut River. On their march they were 
harassed by some of the enemy, and several times 
attacked in the rear. In these rencontres they lost 
seven of their men, till Rogers, favored by the dusk 
of the evening, formed an ambuscade upon his own 
track, and fell upon the enemy where they least ex- 
pected it ; by this stroke he put an end to any fur- 
ther annoyance from the enemy. For about ten 
days the detachment kept together, till they had 
passed the eastern side of Lake Memphremagog. 
It was then thought best to scatter into smaller par- 
ties, and make the best of their way to some of the 
English settlements. Their sufferings now began to 



130 DESTRUCTION OF THE VILLAGE OF ST. FRANCIS. 

be severe, not only from the excessive fatigues they 
had undergone, but from hunger. Their provisions 
were expended, and they were yet at a distance 
from any place of relief. Some were lost in the 
woods, and others perished at Coos, being unable 
to hold out any further. But Kogers, with the most 
of his men, persevered amidst all their sufferings, 
till they arrived at Number Four, now Charlestown. 
This enterprise proved extremely dangerous and 
fatiguing to the men who had been engaged in it, 
but it made a deep impression on the enemy. It 
carried alarm and consternation into the heart of 
Canada, and convinced the Indians that the retalia- 
tion of vengeance was now come upon them. 



PETER BROWN'S TEMPERANCE LESSON. 

Among the earliest settlers of one of the western 
towns of "Windham county, Vermont, was a certain 
man named Peter Brown, familiarly called " Old 
Pete," who, entirely alone in the wilderness, com- 
menced the task of clearing the woods and securing 
for himself a home. In the course of a few years 
he found himself surrounded by a thriving hamlet. 
Our hero, being of an eccentric turn of mind, was 
the butt for all the boys in the neighborhood to play 
their pranks upon ; and hence our story arises. 

One fruitful summer, Peter, being moved with a 
-desire for the good things of this life, cultivated, to 
the wonder of all round about, a patch of water- 
melons. These were the first raised in that part of 
the state, and the temptation to the boys was strong 
to assist him in disposing of them. At length, after 
losing many of the best ones, he concluded to watch 
the next night, and see what could be done towards 
catching the depredators. By the way, old Pete, 
although not a drunkard, was yet one who loved his 
bottle, and prided himself upon keeping the best 
whiskey in all the country, never leaving home with- 
out his pint bottle, which he called by the familiar 
name of "Betty." On the occasion in question, 

(131) 



132 PETER brown's TEMPERANCE LESSON. *| 

having replenished " Betty," he filled his cart with 
fresh straw, and started for the melon patch. This 
was situated on the side of a hill, at the foot of 
which was a muddy pond, some two rods in diame- 
ter, and three feet deep, and mostly frequented by 
tadpoles and other small fry of that sort. 

As was said, Peter started for his melon patch 
with every thing prepared for a vigorous campaign. 
The oxen turned into the pasture, his next care was 
to locate the cart where he could overlook the 
whole field ; he blocked the wheels, and, putting 
" Betty " in his pocket, commenced his lonely patrol. 
Leaving Brown carefully attending to his melons, 
let us return to the boys, who take quite a promi- 
nent part in our story. Peter, like many a man of 
our own times, could never keep a secret ; so all 
his preparations became known to his friends the 
boys, who formed their plans accordingly, and early 
in the evening ensconced themselves in a clump of 
bushes near by, to await the favorable moment for 
their operations. 

As time progressed, Peter's bottle made frequent 
visits from pocket to mouth, until, whether from 
fatigue or too frequent libations, he became very 
sleepy, and by ten in the evening turned in and 
nestled very comfortably in the straw on the cart, 
intending, of course, to keep one eye open. In 
spite of his strenuous exertions to the contrary, 
sleep entirely overcame him ; and his loud snoring 
announced to the boys in the bushes that the time 
had come for their sport ; so out they sallied, and. 



PETER brown's TEMPERANCE LESSON. 133 

having selected half a dozen of the best melons, 
returned to an appointed place, where ample justice 
was done to the delicious fruit. Their main object 
being accomplished, next comes the fun ; and to 
this they applied themselves with zest. Stealing 
out cautiously, one held the tongue of the cart, 
while others removed the blocking from the wheels ; 
then, with a shove, off went cart, Pete, bottle, straw, 
and all. The probability seemed strong for a fine 
ride and a safe deliverance at the bottom ; but for- 
tune willed otherwise ; for, as the hill was steep, 
the speed grew greater, till the whole establish- 
ment ran plump into the pond, when, striking a 
log sunk in the middle, the stoppage was so sud- 
den as to pitch Pete and all his gear into the 
water. After splashing for a while, till some of the 
effects of the liquor were gone, he caught a wheel, 
and drew himself up into the cart, where he sat in 
perfect bewilderment as to how and when he came 
there. Having removed the mud and grass from 
his face, at length he came to himself, and recol- 
lected mounting the cart and settling himself in the 
straw. From that time his memory was as much in 
the dark as was every thing around him. ^ 

The boys all this time stood near, watching. 
When the old man fell in, their first thought was to 
help him out, for fear he would be drowned ; but 
when he was seen seated safely in the cart, and no 
danger was to be apprehended, they disappeared 
behind the hill in high glee. Peter felt very mis- 
erable, and hardly knew what to do. He was just 
12 



134 PETER brown's TEMPERANCE LESSON. 

drunk enough not to have a very clear idea of his 
situation, and hence feared to start for the shore. 
Finally he arrived at the conclusion that the best 
way was to try and raise some neighbors who lived 
near. These, coming at his cry, soon built a fire, 
by the light of which Peter Brown came safe to 
shore. When the loss of the melons was discov- 
ered, it was easy to understand the cause of the dis- 
aster, his rapid ride and plunge. It is said that 
Pete never recovered his " Betty," and, furthermore, 
never got another ; however that may be, Brown 
never forgot his night's adventure, or the very prac- 
tical temperance lesson he had received. 



INCIDENTS FROM THE LIFE OF COLONEL 
ETHAN ALLEN. 

Ethan Allen, one of the most prominent of the 
heroes of Vermont, was born in Litchfield, Con- 
necticut, January 10, 1737. He removed hence to 
Vermont, 1770. Previous to this removal, nothing 
is known of him, except that he made frequent jour- 
neys to Vermont, to locate lands under the grants 
of New Hampshire. His first public acts were in 
defending the settlers under these grants from the 
claims of the State of New York. This controversy 
continued for a long time to occupy the minds of the 
inhabitants ; and though during the revolutionary 
war all united in the common cause, the final settle- 
ment of the dispute was not until 1791. Throughout 
the whole, Allen took a prominent part ; and it was 
much owing to his influence that the issue was so 
favorable to the New Hampshire grantees. Allen 
never having had the advantages of early education, 
the works which he wrote possessed not sufficient 
interest or importance to secure their preservation 
to the present day, though they showed many traces 
of a mind naturally strong and vigorous to a high 
degree. The chief points in his character were an 
unconquerable industry and perseverance in what- 

(135) 



136 INCIDENTS FROM THE LIFE 

ever he undertook. He possessed, also, the great- 
est bravery, which, though ever tempered by pru- 
dence when the lives of others depended upon him, 
yet amounted even to rashness in the exposure of 
his own person. While firm in resistance to the 
encroachments of others, he was a strong, unwaver- 
ing friend to law and order. 

The courage and prudence of Colonel Allen were 
evident at the celebrated capture of Ticonderoga, 
with which every child is familiar, and in his expe- 
dition under Montgomery to Canada. Though the 
latter terminated disastrously, it was owing to no 
fault of his. 

In his narrative of this affair he tells the follow- 
ing incident, which fully illustrates his personal 
fearlessness. He had surrendered under pressure 
of vastly superior numbers, on condition that all 
his men should be treated with honor ; but General 
Prescott, the British commander, ordering up a guard 
in his presence to execute a number of Canadians 
who were taken with him, Allen says, — 

" It cut me to the heart to see the Canadians in 
so hard a case, in consequence of their having been 
true to me ; they were wringing their hands, saying 
their prayers, as I concluded, and expected immedi- 
ate death. I therefore stepped between the execu- 
tioners and the Canadians, opened my clothes, and 
told General Prescott to thrust his bayonet into my 
breast, for I was the sole cause of the Canadians 
taking up arms. 

*' The guard, in the mean time, rolling their eye- 



OF COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN. 137 

balls from the general to me, seemed impatiently 
waiting his dread command to sheathe their bayo- 
nets in my heart ; I could, however, plainly discern 
that he was in a suspense and quandary about the 
matter. This gave me additional hopes of succeed- 
ing ; for my design was not to die, but to save the 
Canadians by a finesse. The general stood a min- 
ute, when he made me, with an oath, the following 
reply : ' I will not execute you now, but you shall 
grace a halter at Tyburn.' " It is needless to add 
that Allen never saw that famous hill. 

At one time a large reward was offered by the 
State of New York for the apprehension of Allen .^ 
His friends were much alarmed ; but Allen laughed 
at them, and offered a bet that he would proceed to 
Albany, drink a bowl of punch, and return unhurt. 
Accordingly, the bet being accepted, he rode to 
Albany, and, after deliberately alighting from his 
horse, and entering the house with a haughty air, 
called for a bowl of punch. The intelligence that 
" Ethan Allen was in the city " spread rapidly, and 
a large concourse of people collected around the 
house, among whom was the sheriff of Albany 
county. Allen was wholly unmoved. Having fin- 
ished his punch, he went to the door, mounted his 
horse, and giving a hearty " Huzza for the Green 
Mountains ! " departed unharmed. Those who were 
disposed to arrest him felt that the enterprise would 
not be unaccompanied with danger. 

* See De Puy's "Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Heroes 
of 76." 

12* 



138 INCIDENTS FROM THE LIFE 

Another anecdote is alike illustrative of the temer- 
ity of Allen and the heroism of one of the women 
of those exciting times. While travelling upon the 
shores of Lake Champlain, opposite Crown Point, 
with a single companion, he stopped at the house of 
a Mr. Richards. It happened that, at the same 
time, a party of six soldiers from the neighboring 
fortress, fully armed, were at the house, with the 
intention of remaining during the night. Knowing 
Allen, they determined on arresting him, and ob- 
taining the tempting reward offered by the govern- 
ment of New York for his apprehension. 'Mrs. 
Richards overheard their conversation, and when 
lighting Allen and his companion to their room, 
informed them of the design of the soldiers, and 
silently raising a window, advised them to escape. 
When the soldiers discovered that Allen had left 
the house, they threatened Mrs. Richards with pun- 
ishment for conniving at the escape of the heroic 
leader of the Green Mountain Boys ; but she apol- 
ogized, on the ground that if she had failed to do 
so, the people would have torn down her house, and 
driven herself and family from their possessions. 

The patriotism of Allen was entirely regardless 
of family ties. On one occasion, when his brother 
Levi joined the Tories, he entered a complaint 
against him to the patriot authorities, praying that 
his property be confiscated for the use of the public. 
When Levi heard of it, he challenged Ethan to 
single combat. Ethan replied that it would be dis- 



OP COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN. 139 

graceful to fight a Tory. We may remark that 
Levi afterwards became a staunch Whig. 

We append an exact copy of the above complaint 
of Colonel Allen against his brother. 

" Bennington County, ss. ^ 
Arlington, S)th of January, 1779. ) 
"To the Honorable the Court of Confiscation 
comes Colonel Ethan Allen, in the name of the free- 
men of this State, and complaint makes that Levi 
Allen, late of Salisbury, in Connecticut, is of tory 
principles, and holds in fee sundry tracts and par- 
cels of land in this State. The said Levi has been 
detected in endeavoring to supply the enemy on 
Long Island, and in attempting to circulate counter- 
feit continental currency, and is guilty of holding 
treasonable correspondence with the enemy, under 
cover of doing favors to me, when a prisoner at 
New York and Long Island ; and in talking and 
using influence in favor of the enemy, associating 
with inimical persons to this country, and with them 
monopolizing the necessaries of life ; in endeavor- 
ing to lessen the credit of the continental currency ; 
and in particular hath exerted himself in the most 
fallacious manner, to injure the property and charac- 
ter of some of the most zealous friends to the inde- 
pendency of the United States, and of this State 
likewise ; all which inimical conduct is against the 
peace and dignity of the freemen of this State : I 
therefore pray the Honorable Court to take the 



140 INCIDENTS FROM THE LIFE 

matter under their consideration, and make confis- 
cation of the estate of said Levi, before mentioned, 
according to the laws and customs of this State, in 
such case made and provided. 

"Ethan Allen." 

Our hero was distinguished for his contempt of 
pain. Once, while in a dentist's office, a lady came 
in who was severely afflicted with an aching tooth, 
but who had not the courage to submit to its extrac- 
tion. Allen, perceiving her fears, ordered the den- 
tist to take out one of his. He was assured that all 
his teeth were sound ; but Allen said, " Never mind ; 
do as I bid you ; " and soon the tooth was out. It 
hardly need be added that the lady, ashamed of her 
fears, followed his example. 

The following anecdote is related of Colonel 
Allen to show that while determined that the guilty 
should suffer for their faults, he was yet equally 
strenuous that all the forms of justice should be 
complied with. 

A certain David Redding was accused of supply- 
ing the enemy with food, and performing many 
other acts unfri ndly to his country. He was first 
tried by a jury of six persons, under the authority 
of the Council of Safety, and, being convicted, was 
sentenced to be hung on the 6th of June, 1778. 
In the mean time, one John Burnam appeared from 
Connecticut, with Blackstone in his saddle bags, 
and declared before the council that a man could 
not be legally tried by less than twelve men, thus 



OF COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN. 141 

proving Red ding's trial irregular. The council im- 
mediately granted a reprieve and a new trial. 

A multitude had assembled at the time appoint- 
ed for the execution, when the news of this proce- 
dure came out. Their disappointment was very 
great, and an attempt was made to rescue the pris- 
oner, and hang him in spite of every thing. Allen 
mounted a stump, and exclaimed, " Attention, the 
whole ! " He then advised them to retire to their 
houses, and return at the time fixed by the council, 
saying, with a tremendous oath, "You shall see 
somebody hung ; if Redding is not, I'll be hung 
myself." Upon this the crowd dispersed ; and Red- 
ding, having been again convicted, was executed on 
the appointed day. 

In religious belief Allen was a deist, and was 
fond of displaying his peculiar views on all occa- 
sions ; his wife, however, was a devoted Christian. 
Notwithstanding the infidel character of his views, 
Allen was staunch in his love of truth, and a thor- 
ough contemner of any thing like equivocation or 
deceit. 

On one occasion a person to whom he owed money 
had commenced a suit against him. Allen was un- 
able to pay the debt, and employed a law)^er to 
have the execution of legal process against him 
postponed for a short period. As an easy measure 
to efi'ect this, and throw the case over to the next 
session of the court, the lawyer denied the genuine- 
ness of the signature ; Allen, who was present, 
stepped angrily forward, and exclaimed to his 



142 INCIDENTS FROM THE LIFE OF ETHAN ALLEN. 

astonished counsel, " Sir, I did not employ you to 
come here and lie ; I wish you to tell the truth. 
The note is a good one ; the signature is mine ; all 
I want is for the court to grant me sufficient time 
to make the payment." It is almost needless to 
add that the plaintiff acceded to his wish. 

Allen died suddenly at Burlington, Yt., February 
12, 1789, at the age of fifty years, while yet in the 
fulness of his vigor and strength. 






SEIZURE OF CAPTAIN REMEMBER BAKER 
BY THE YORKERS. 

1772. 

The subject of the following narrative was one 
of the most prominent men on the side of the Green 
Mountain Boys, in the protracted struggle which 
was carried on with the authorities of New York. 
Having lost his father in early youth, severe neces- 
sity gave him habits of prudence, energy, and self- 
reliance, which well fitted him to become a leader 
among resolute men. He was a soldier and after- 
wards an officer in the French war, and gained no 
little distinction by his bravery and discretion. He 
settled in Arlington, Yt., about the year 1764, and 
built some mills. These were the first erected 
north of Bennington, and attracted numerous set- 
tlers to the vicinity. Baker early incurred the dis- 
pleasure of the officials of New York by the vigor 
with which he opposed their efforts to gain jurisdic- 
tion over the New Hampshire grants, as well as by 
the influence which his example had upon others. 
He was denounced to the world as a felon, and, in 
company with Ethan Allen and Seth Warner, he 
enjoyed the distinction of having a large reward 
offered for his apprehension. These circumstances 

(143) 



144 SEIZURE OF CAPTAIN BAKER 

led one John Munro, an active partisan of New 
York, to assemble ten or twelve men of like feeling 
with himself, for the purpose of seizing Captain 
Baker, and carrying him to Albany. The following 
account of the transaction is taken, with some little 
alteration for the reader's sake, from the Connecticut 
Courant of June 9, 1772. It is understood to have 
been written by Colonel Ethan Allen.* 

" This wicked, inhuman, most barbarous, infamous, 
cruel, villanous, and thievish act was perpetrated, 
committed, and carried into execution by one John 
Munro, a reputed justice of the peace, living near 
Arlington, with a number of ruffians, his neighbors. 
These, after a Lord^s day consultation in plotting 
this wicked and horrid design, surprised Baker in 
his dwelling house, about the first appearance of 
morning light on the 22d day of March. After 
making an attempt to discharge their firearms 
through Baker's house, and finding them miss fire, 
Munro with his attendants did with axes forcibly 
break and enter Baker's house, and with weapons 
of death spread destruction round the room, cutting 
with swords and bruising with firearms and clubs 
men, women, and children ; swearing he would have 
Baker, dead or alive, and that he would burn the 
house — Baker, wife, children, and all the effects. 
To compass and bring this villanous scheme into 
execution, he did, with his own wicked and rebel- 
lious hand, convey fire from the hearth to a cup- 

* See De Puy's ** Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Heroes of 
76," p. 161. 



BY THE YORKERS. 145 

board in the room, it being the most convenient 
place to answer his intentions ; when all on a sud- 
den a Judas spirit — that of gain and plunder — 
overbalanced his wicked noddle. This being agreed 
on, he instantly thrust his sword at Mrs. Baker, 
with an intention to destroy her life, (as he has 
since confessed,) when her right . arm for that time 
happily preserved her from the intended murder. 
Others of his attendants, in the mean time, were 
mauling, beating, and bruising his children. Mr. 
Baker, having at that time posted himself in his 
chamber, for the better security of himself, his fam- 
ily, and effects, finding their malice and impreca- 
tions principally levelled at his person, thought 
proper to leave his chamber, thinking thereby to 
draw the murderers after him, and so give his fam- 
ily a better opportunity to save themselves from 
impending ruin and utter destruction. He accord- 
ingly burst a board from the gable end of the house, 
and leaped out ; when part of the ruffians were 
ordered by Munro, after firing upon Baker, to set 
on him a large, spiteful, wilful, and very malicious 
dog, educated and brought up agreeably to their 
own forms and notions. He was, like those other 
servants of the devil, at that time all obedience. 
He seized Baker, and being instantly joined by his 
cruel partners, the prisoner was bound and pinioned 
so fast that he was unable to make the least resist- 
ance in defence of himself, his unhappy, wounded 
wife, or his poor, helpless, distressed children. 
" And not being as yet satisfied with their own 
13 



146 SEIZURE OF CAPTAIN BAKER 

unlawful proceedings, and tlieir tliirst for blood not 
being quenched, the better to enhance and increase 
their horrid crimes, and procure a fell draught of 
human blood to quench their unnatural thirst, they 
conveyed Baker to the carriage in which they rode, 
where, in his confined state, John Munro did with 
his attendants tomahawk, cut, and slash him in 
spots, that their eyes might see a life languish out 
by degrees in streams of blood, while they did, 
with an oath at almost every breath, laugh him in 
the face, to express their satisfaction in his agoniz- 
ing groans. 

"In this awful and lamentable situation — almost 
on the verge of eternity by means of his bruises, 
cuts, and great effusion of blood — Baker, with a 
voice according to his strength, called for his 
clothes ; for thus far he was just as he rose from his 
bed. But he was denied these by Justice Munro, 
who gave him several strokes with his naked sword 
over the face and eyes, breaking the weapon into 
three pieces. He followed this inhuman act with 

the menace that ' he would clothe him as a 

traitor; ' which aggravating threat gave a new sip 
to their beloved revenge. Thus they continued 
him in his naked journey for the space of four miles 
and a half, with many cruel words and hard blows, 
stopping his breath with handkerchiefs till he was 
almost suffocated, lest he should apply to some per- 
son for relief. 

" The justice and attendants had taken those of 
the effects belonging to the house which he and 



BY THE YORKERS. 147 

they, in their trepidation, thought worthy their 
notice ; although they would probably have been 
more faithful in the prosecution of selfish and 
worldly gain, had they not feared a surprise in so 
unchristian an act. They pursued their journey 
with severe words and cruel threats, as though 
resolved to take full swing, and make an ample 
feast of human cruelty. They were followed by 
three loyal and faithful men, who, after asking for 
the preservation of Baker's life, were fired upon by 
several of Munro's party, and robbed of what they 
had with them, to the value of forty dollars, as a 
fresh sip and recruit to their hellish desires. These 
distressing tidings, being soon spread in the neigh- 
borhood, stirred up the innocent inhabitants. For 
the preservation of their own persons, their families 
and effects, as well as those of Baker, some of them 
pursued the carriage about thirty miles, coming up 
with it at the Hudson River ferry, opposite to 
Albany. The savage-like John, with his attend- 
ants, being conscience struck and condemned, ran 
and hid themselves so privately that it is not known 
by his or their acquaintances where they have been 
ever since ; leaving Baker with very little remains 
of life, unable to fight for himself, and relying, as he 
had never done before, upon the mercies of his foes. 
" Such is a very short though true account of the 
barbarous conduct of the said John towards Baker 
and his family. Such conduct, exercised by a pre- 
tended or real civil magistrate, must be a reproach, 
a shame, and disgrace to the laws, restrictions, reg- 



148 SEIZURE OF CAPTAIN BAKER BY THE YORKERS. 

ulations, peace, manners, good order, and economy, 
both of the laws of God and man. The above and 
much more can be attested with good authority, as 
many worthy persons were eye witnesses of the 
tragedy. The robbery has since been confessed by 
the said justice, and he has promised to make 
amends." * 

* This last clause seems to have been added some tune after the 
article was written. The reader will observe that the publication was 
more than two months after the occurrence it narrates. 



FEMALE COURAGE. 

FKOM THOMPSON'S "GAZETTEER OF VERMONT." 

During the revolutionary war, the inhabitants of 
the western part of the State of Vermont, which 
had then been settled but a few years, were much 
exposed to the depredations of the merciless Indians. 
Coming down Lake Champlain in their canoes, they 
generally fell upon the settlements before they had 
any warning of their approach. As they seldom 
molested women and children, it was customary for 
the men to flee into the woods till the Indians had 
performed their work of plunder. At one time a 
party of them entered the house of Mr. Philip 
Stone, of Bridport, Vt., giving him but just time 
to escape; and after stripping it of every thing 
of value to them, the principal sanhop put on the 
finest shirt it afforded, and, swaggering away to the 
hogsty, selected the best hog, and officiated as chief 
butcher, flourishing his fine bloody sleeves, while 
his comrades, whooping and dancing, carried it 
away to their canoes. At another time, a party of 
Indians, coming up the bank, were discovered by 
Mrs. Stone in season to throw some things out of a 
back window into the weeds, put a few in her bosom, 
13* (I'lQ) 



150 FEMALE COURAGE. 

and sit down to her carding. The Indians, after 
taking what they could find elsewhere, came about 
Mrs. Stone and the children. One of them, seem- 
ing to suspect that she had some valuable articles 
concealed about her person, attempted to pull them 
from her bosom ; whereupon she struck him on the 
.face with the teeth side of her card so violently 
that he withdrew his hand, while a tall young sav- 
age was flourishing his tomahawk over her head. 
Upon this an old Indian cried out, " Good squaw ! 
good squaw / " and burst into a laugh of derision at 
his companions, for being beaten. 



THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 

FROM WILLIAMS'S "HISTORY OF VERMONT." 

1777. 

General Burgoyne was making very slow ad- 
vances from Lake Champlain towards Albany. 
Having received information that a large quantity 
of stores was laid up at Bennington, and guarded 
only by the militia, he formed the design of surpris- 
ing that place; and was made to believe that as 
soon as a detachment of the royal army should ap- 
pear in that quarter, it would receive effectual assist- 
ance from a large body of loyalists, who only waited 
for the appearance of a support, and would, in that 
event, come forward and aid the royal cause. Full 
of these expectations, he detached Colonel Baum, a 
German of&cer, with a select body of troops, to 
surprise the place. His force consisted of about 
five hundred regular troops, some Canadians, and 
more than one hundred Indians, with two light 
pieces of artillery. To facilitate their operations, 
and to be ready to take advantage of the success 
of the detachment, the royal army moved along the 
east bank of Hudson's River, and encamped nearly 

(151) 



152 THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 

opposite to Saratoga, having at the same time 
thrown a bridge of rafts over the river, by which 
the army passed to that place. With a view to 
support Baum, if it should be found necessary, 
Lieutenant Colonel Breyman's corps, consisting of 
the Brunswick grenadiers, light infantry, and chas- 
seurs, were posted at Battenkill. 

General Stark, having received information that 
a party of Indians were at Cambridge, sent Lieu- 
tenant Colonel Greg, on August 13, with a party 
of two hundred men, to stop their progress. Towards 
night he was informed by express that a large body 
of regulars was in the rear of the Indians, and ad- 
vancing towards Bennington. On this intelligence. 
Stark drew together his brigade and the militia 
that were at hand, and sent on to Manchester, to 
Colonel Warner, to bring on his regiment ; he sent 
expresses at the same time to the neighboring militia, 
to join him with the utmost speed. On the morning 
of thp 14th he marched, with his troops, and at the 
distance of seven miles he met Greg on the retreat, 
and the enemy within a mile of him. Stark drew 
up his troops in the order of battle ; but the enemy, 
coming in sight, halted upon a very advantageous 
piece of ground. Baum perceived the Americans 
were too strong to be attacked with his present 
force, and sent an express to Burgoyne, with an 
account of his situation, and to have Breyman 
march immediately to support him. In the mean 
time, small parties of the Americans kept up a skir- 
mish with the enemy, killed and wounded thirty of 



THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 153 

tbera, with two of their Indian chiefs, without any 
loss to themselves. The ground the Americans had 
taken was unfavorable for a general action, and 
Stark retreated about a mile, and encamped. A 
council of war was held, and it was agreed to send 
two detachments upon the enemy's rear, while the 
rest of the troops should make an attack upon their 
front. The next day the weather was rainy ; and 
though it prevented a general action, there were 
frequent skirmishings in small parties, which proved 
favorable and encouraging to the Americans. 

On August 16, in the morning. Stark was joined 
by Colonel Symonds and a body of militia from 
Berkshire, and proceeded to attack the enemy, 
agreeably to the plan which had been concerted. 
Colonel Baijm, in the mean time, had intrenched on 
an advantageous piece of ground near St. Koick's 
mills, on a branch of Hoosic River, and rendered 
his post as strong as his circumstances and situation 
would admit. Colonel Nichols was detached with 
two hundred men to the rear of his left ; Colonel 
Herrick, with three hundred men, to the rear of his 
right ; both were to join, and then make the attack. 
Colonels Hubbard and Stickney, with two hundred 
more, were ordered on the right, and one hundred 
were advanced towards the front, to draw the atten- 
tion of the enemy that way. About three o'clock 
in the afternoon, the troops had taken their posi- 
tion, and were ready to commence the action. While 
Nichols and Herrick were bringing their troops to- 
gether, the Indians were alarmed at the prospect, 



154 THE BATTLE OP BENNINGTON. 

and pushed off between the two corps, but received 
a fire as they were passing, by which three of them 
were killed, and two wounded. 

Nichols then began the attack, and was followed 
by all the other divisions ; those in the front imme- 
diately advanced, and in a few minutes the action 
became general. It lasted about two hours, and 
was like one continued peal of thunder. Baum 
made a brave defence ; and the German dragoons, 
after they had expended their ammunition, led by 
their colonel, charged with their swords ; but they 
were soon overpowered. Their works were carried 
on all sides, their two pieces of cannon were taken, 
Colonel Baum himself was mortally wounded and 
taken prisoner, and all his men, except a few who 
had escaped into the woods, were either killed or 
taken prisoners. Having completed the business by 
taking the whole party, the militia began to disperse 
and look out for plunder. But in a few minutes 
Stark received information that a large reenforce- 
ment was on their march, and within two miles of 
him. Fortunately at that moment Colonel Warner 
came up with his regiment from Manchester. This 
brave and experienced officer commanded a regi- 
ment of continental troops, which had been raised 
in Vermont. Mortified that he had not been in the 
former engagement,^ he instantly led on his men 
against Breyman, and began the second engage- 

* This seems to be a mistake as to Warner iiimself. He assisted 
Stark in person, though his men were not there. See Anecdotes from 
the Life of General Stark, page 163. 



THE BATTLE OP BENNINGTON. 155 

ment. Stark collected the militia as soon as possi- 
ble, and pushed on to his assistance. The action 
became general, and the battle continued obstinate 
on both sides till sunset, when the Germans were 
forced to give way, and were pursued till dark. 
They left their two field pieces behind, and a con- 
siderable number were made prisoners. They re- 
treated in the best manner they could, improving 
the advantages of the evening and night, to which 
alone their escape was ascribed. 

In these actions the Americans took four brass 
field pieces, twelve brass drums, two hundred and 
fifty dragoon swords, four ammunition wagons, and 
about seven hundred prisoners, with their arms and 
accoutrements. Two hundred and seven men were 
found dead upon the spot ; the numbers of wounded 
were unknown. The loss of the Americans was 
but small ; thirty were slain, and about forty were 
wounded. 

To this account we subjoin the following interest- 
ing incident from the Rev. Grant Powers's History 
of the Coos Country. 

Colonel Charles Johnston, of Haverhill, N. H., 
was a man possessing most excellent qualities of 
mind and heart. His bravery and goodness were 
celebrated in all the country round ; and the powers 
of his body were well proportioned to the greatness 
of his heart. The following event illustrates both 
his physical power and his courage. At the time 
when the troops of Vermont and New Hampshire 



156 THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 

signalized themselves at the battle of Bennington, 
under General Stark, Colonel Johnston was there, 
and sustained a part in the brilliant achievements 
of that ever-memorable day. After Colonel Baum 
had surrendered to the American troops, and the 
battle was renewed by the arrival of Colonel Brey- 
man, Colonel Johnston, in obedience to orders from 
General Stark, was necessitated to pass through a 
narrow strip of woods on foot and alone, to bear 
some orders to the other division of the American 
army. He had no weapon of defence but a stout 
staff, which he had cut in the woods that day, as he 
was passing on to Bennington from New Hampshire. 
Thus equipped, he came suddenly upon a British 
scout in ambush, placed there to intercept communi- 
cations between the different divisions of the Amer- 
icans. The party in ambush was commanded by a 
Hessian lieutenant. As Johnston came up, this 
officer stepped forth, sword in hand, and claimed 
him as his prisoner. The word was no more than 
uttered before the sword was struck from the hand 
of the officer by Johnston's staff, and as soon did 
Johnston have possession of that sword, and point- 
ing it at the breast of the Hessian, declared to him 
that he was that moment a dead man if he and his 
party did not throw down their arms. The officer 
turned to his men and said, " We are prisoners of 
war." The soldiers threw down their arms, and 
Johnston marched them before him to the American 
lines, where they were received by our troops. 
The colonel returned with the sword to his fam- 



THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 157 

ily, and, presenting it to his only son, Captain 
Michael Johnston, said, "This sword was won by 
valor ; let it never be retaken through cowardice." 
The sword was a splendid article of the kind. 
There was a good deal of writing upon it, formed 
by etching, and the officer's name. This sword was 
brought forth and exhibited for the mournful grati- 
fication of spectators on the day of the colonel's 
funeral solemnities. Before his death it was his ex- 
pressed wish that this sword might descend from 
him in the line of the oldest male heir ; and it is 
now in the possession of the Rev. Charles Johns- 
ton, of the town of Locke, Cayuga county, N. Y. 
14 



ANECDOTES FROM THE LIFE OF GEN- 
ERAL STARK. 

General John Stark, the hero of the battle of 
Bennington, was a native of Londonderry, in New 
Hampshire, and was born August 17, 1728. His 
life was throughout one of great hardship and ad- 
venture. When at the age of twenty-one years, he 
was captured by the Indians, while on a fishing and 
hunting excursion. This happened in the following 
manner : — 

John Stark, his brother William, and two others 
were camping out near the Connecticut River. In 
the excitement of the chase, John had wandered 
quite a distance from his companions, when sud- 
denly he was surprised and seized by a party of ten 
savages. Of course resistance was vain, and he 
quietly gave himself up into their hands. On their 
demanding information about his companions, he 
directed them to a point opposite to their real posi- 
tion, and thus succeeded in leading the savages two 
miles out of the way. His associates, not knowing 
the cause of his absence, and thinking that he had 
wandered so far from them that he could not readily 
find his way back, unfortunately fired a number of 
guns as a signal. This of course made their posi- 

(158) 



ANECDOTES FROM THE LIFE OF GENERAL STARK. 159 

tion known to the Indians. They immediately 
retraced their course, and stealthily approached the 
unsuspecting hunters. But their plans were disar- 
ranged by the boldness and intrepidity of Stark. 
As soon as they approached within hailing distance, 
he shouted to his comrades to run for their lives ; 
and they lost no time in commencing a rapid retreat. 
Instantly four of his captors levelled their pieces at 
the three Yankees ; but as quick as thought Stark 
struck up the guns of two of them, and by this 
means his brother William, who was one of the 
party, was able to make his escape. For this bold 
action John received a severe beating. 

When the Indians arrived at the village of St. 
Francis, the spirit and deportment of Stark gained 
him the admiration of all the warriors. The cap- 
tives were compelled to run the gantlet. The one or 
two who preceded Stark received very cruel treat- 
ment ; but this intrepid youth, wrenching a tomahawk 
from the Indian who stood first in the line, fell with 
such fury upon every one who attempted to strike 
him, that he arrived at the end of his race completely 
untouched. 

On another occasion they set Stark at work hoe- 
ing corn. Well knowing that they considered this 
an occupation unfit for brave men, he endeavored 
to show his ignorance of such work by leaving the 
weeds and hoeing up the corn. Finding them dis- 
pleased at this, he flung the hoe into the river, ex- 
claiming that "hoeing corn was work for squaws, 
and not for brave warriors." At this they broke 



160 ANECDOTES FROM THE LIFE 

out in undisguised applause. He was styled " young 
chief," and was honored with an adoption into the 
tribe. He remained among them but four months. 

In the French war, Stark was lieutenant in Major 
Rogers's company of rangers. In the month of Jan- 
uary, 1757, Major Rogers with his men were ordered 
to proceed from Fort William Henry, where they 
were then stationed, on a scout towards Fort Ticon- 
deroga, on Lake Champlain. Proceeding down 
Lake George on the ice, they came on the third day 
to Lake Champlain. There they captured some 
provision sleds out of a train belonging to the 
enemy, and took a few prisoners. Fearing that the 
large garrison at Ticonderoga would be apprised 
of his proximity by those who escaped, the rangers 
immediately began to retrace their steps towards 
Fort William Henry. As they were marching in 
single file, on account of the deep snow, across the 
neck of land which divides Lake George from Lake 
Champlain, the advance came unexpectedly upon 
two hundred of the enemy's troops, drawn up in 
battle array. In an instant a tremendous volley 
was poured upon them by the French. Stunned by 
this sudden and unlooked-for attack, they turned 
and rushed back to the rear. Stark, with his usual 
promptness, instantly formed his men upon a ridge, 
ten or fifteen rods distant from the enemy's posi- 
tion. Early in the action Major Rogers was disa- 
bled by a wound from exercising the command, and 
the responsibility devolved upon Stark. He was 
equal to the emergency. Where the balls flew 



OP GENERAL STARK. " 161 

thickest, there he stood, encouraging and cheering 
on his men to their duty. The battle began at three 
o'clock in the afternoon, and for four hours they 
stood their ground, in snow four feet in depth, upon 
one of the coldest of winter's chilly days. Although 
they were apprehensive that the keen evening air 
would be as fearful an enemy as the troops in their 
front, yet, animated by the unflinching spirit of 
their leader, they stirred not from their places until 
night had thrown her sable mantle over the wild 
forest, and the enemy had abandoned the field. The 
blood of half the French troops crimsoned the 
trampled snow. The bodies of the slain lay where 
they fell, and stiffened in the cold blasts of the 
north wind. Forty-eight of the rangers remained 
unhurt, and these, with the wounded, dragged them- 
selves through the snow to the shore of Lake 
George. They arrived here at dawn, in a state of 
utter exhaustion. Stark, with two other brave men, 
volunteered to go to Fort William Henry, at the 
southern end of the lake, and procure sleds, on 
which to transport the wounded. The lake is 
thirty-six miles in length, and they travelled this 
distance upon the ice, reaching the fort about dark. 
They immediately started on their return with the 
sleds, travelled all night, and brought back the 
wounded to the fort at the close of the next day. 
Stark himself assisted to draw the sleds. Truly 
immense must Stark's power of endurance have 
been, thus to enable him to pass three days and two 
nights in the most violent and unremitted exertion. 
14* 



162 ANECDOTES FROM THE LIFE 

Had it not been for his indomitable resolution and 
perseverance, it is probable that not one of his com- 
pany would have returned to the fort to communi- 
cate the melancholy news of his comrades' destruc- 
tion. At the close of this war he retired with the 
reputation of a brave and vigilant officer. 

When the revolutionary war broke out, Stark was 
carrying on a saw mill. Fired by the news of the 
battle of Lexington, he abandoned his work, and 
proceeded at once to the continental army, near 
Boston. The morning after his arrival he received 
a colonel's commission ; and so great was his popu- 
larity, and the enthusiasm of the day, that in two 
hours he succeeded in enlisting eight hundred men. 
On the memorable 17th of June, Stark, with his 
New Hampshire backwoodsmen, was engaged in the 
terrible battle of Bunker Hill ; and the deadly fire 
of these sure marksmen, and the invincible courage 
of their leader, did much towards securing a favor- 
able termination to that bloody conflict. He occu- 
pied an important place in several other battles ; 
but he reached the climax of his fame, when, in one 
of the darkest and most desponding periods of the 
American war, he achieved a glorious victory over 
the enemy at Bennington. 

As a full description of this engagement will be 
found in another place, it is not our intention now 
to give any lengthened sketch of it, but merely to 
relate some incidents in which our hero was partic- 
ularly concerned. 

On the morning of the battle, Stark, who was 



4 



OF GENERAL STARK. 163 

encamped about two miles distant from the enemy, 
rode forward with Warner, colonel of the Vermont 
regiment, to reconnoitre the position of his oppo- 
nents. As they stopped to make observations, the 
report of a cannon was heard, and a heavy ball 
plunged past, ploughing the earth as it went. Stark 
looked at it coolly, and then exclaimed, " Those 
rascals know I am an officer ; don't you see they 
honor me with a salute from a big gun ? " 

Nothing could be more characteristic of Stark 
than his speech to his men on leading them in sight 
of the enemy's troops. "Boys," cried he, as he 
pointed with his sword to the bayonets which 
gleamed from the high ground opposite, "boys, 
those are your enemies — the red coats and tories I 
We must conquer them, or to-night Molly Stark is a 
widow ! " Victory or death was the only sentiment 
which possessed his intrepid heart ; and this feeling 
indeed was not confined to him, but pervaded the 
breasts of all those who came to fight at his side for 
the liberty of their homes and their country. Such 
was the spirit that carried them through one of the 
hardest and most fiercely contested battles that 
occurred during the war of the revolution. They 
not only defeated the disciplined force that pre- 
sented itself at first, but also an equally large reen- 
forcement which arrived while the American troops 
were scattered in pursuit of their defeated foe, thus 
taking them at a disadvantage. In his official 
report, Stark thus speaks of the first portion of the 
engagement : " It lasted two hours, and was the 



164 ANECDOTES FROM THE LIFE OF GENERAL STARK. 

hottest I ever saw. It was like one continued clap 
of thunder." 

Stark was acting at this time under the authority 
of the State of New Hampshire ; but after this 
brilliant victory, Congress hastened to show its ap- 
preciation of his distinguished services. They be- 
stowed upon him without delay the rank of briga- 
dier general in the army of the United States. Thus 
ever ready was Congress to recognize and reward 
service done in the cause of liberty, though not in 
lines marked out by itself. 

General Stark after this volunteered his services 
under General Gates at Saratoga, and assisted in 
the council which stipulated for the surrender of 
Burgoyne ; nor did he cease his valuable services 
till he could greet his native country as an inde- 
pendent nation. 

General Stark was of middle stature, not formed 
by nature to exhibit an erect soldierly mien. His 
manners were frank and unassuming ; but he mani- 
fested a peculiar sort of eccentricity and negligence, 
which precluded all display of personal dignity, and 
seemed to place him among those of ordinary rank 
in life. But as a courageous and heroic soldier, he 
is entitled to high rank among those who have been 
crowned with unfading laurels, and to whom a large 
share of glory is justly due. His character as a 
private citizen was unblemished, and he was ever 
held in respect. He lived to the advanced age of 
ninety-three years, eight months, and twenty-four 
days, and died May 8, 1822. 



i 



AN ACT OF COURAGE. 

FEOM REV. G. POWERS'S "HISTORY OF THE COOS COUNTRY." 
1777. 

It will be recollected by those who are acquaint- 
ed with the history of the war of the revolution, 
that as soon as the battle was fought at Bennington, 
and the Americans began to hope that Burgoyne's 
army would fall into their hands, they set about 
retaking the forts of Ticonderoga and Mount Inde- 
pendence, on the shores of Lake Champlain, which 
forts Burgoyne had left in his rear, supplied with 
troops for their defence. Ticonderoga was taken, 
and Mount Independence was straitly besieged for 
some time. There was a good deal of hard fight- 
ing, and it was confidently expected that Mount Inde- 
pendence would surrender ; but it did not. 

The British shipping had full possession of the 
lake. Ticonderoga was upon the west side of the 
lake, and Mount Independence on the east. Our 
troops on the west side could hold no communica- 
tion with those who had invested Mount Independ- 
ence, and of course they could have no concert in 
action. It was at this time, when the greatest 
solicitude was felt by the two American command- 

(165) 



166 AN ACT OF COURAGE. 

ers to know eacli other's minds, that the following 
expedient was adopted by the commander at Ticon- 
deroga. He called on his men to know if there 
were any two of them who would volunteer to swim 
the lake in the evening, and carry despatches to 
General Lincoln, near Mount Independence. For a 
time none offered to undertake the hazardous enter- 
prise ; but when informed how much was probably 
depending upon it, Wallace, of Thetford, Yt., 
stepped forward and said he would attempt it ; and 
then followed him Ephraim Webster, of Newbury, 
who originated in New Chester, N. H. 

The documents were made out, and about sundown 
an officer took these two men upon an eminence 
which overlooked the lake, and pointed out to them 
the course they must take to avoid discovery by the 
British shipping, and then where they would prob- 
ably find the American camp. At dusk of evening 
the same officer attended them to the margin of the 
lake, assisted them to prepare for the voyage, and 
saw them set sail, little expecting ever to hear from 
them again ; for as they had to swim up and down 
the lake, in a zigzag course, to avoid the enemy, 
they must swim more than two miles before they 
could make terra firma ; and it was so late in the 
season, the water was quite cold. They rolled their 
despatches in their clothes, and bound them upon 
the back part of their neck by cords passing round 
their foreheads. As soon as they entered the water, 
Wallace said to Webster, " We shall never reach 



AN ACT OF COURAGE. 167 

shore, it is so cold ; " but this he said without any- 
thought of relinquishing the enterprise. 

When about midway of the lake, the cord which 
fastened Wallace's clothes to his neck slipped down 
from his forehead to his throat, and cut him so 
hard as almost to strangle him. He made several 
attempts to replace the string upon his forehead, 
but failed, and was on the point of giving up all 
for lost. The thought, however, of the importance 
of his undertaking seemed to inspire him with new 
life and vigor, and he succeeded in replacing the 
string, and passed on without saying a word to dis- 
hearten Webster. They passed so near the British 
shipping as to hear the oft-repeated cry, " All's 
well ! " They took no care to contradict that 
report, but buffeted the waves with stout hearts 
and sinewy limbs. They kept in company until 
they came near the eastern shore of the lake, when 
Webster seemed to fall into the rear, a few rods at 
the north of Wallace ; and just as Wallace struck 
the twigs of a tree which lay extended into the 
lake, he heard Webster say, " Help, Wallace ; I am 
drowning ! " Wallace sprang to the shore, caught 
a stick, rushed into the- water, and extended it 
to Webster in the act of sinking, and drew him 
ashore. Webster could not stand ; but Wallace 
rubbed him briskly, and put on his clothes, and he 
soon recovered so as to walk. Webster was so full 
of expressions of gratitude to Wallace for the pres- 
ervation of his life, that Wallace had to caution 



168 AN ACT OF COUEAGE. 

him not to speak so loud, for the enemy would hear 
them. 

But new difficulties now presented themselves. 
It was dark, and they were in a strange place. The 
enemy was near, and had their sentinels on shore, as 
well as the Americans ; and what was worst of all, 
they knew not the countersign of the Americans on 
that side of the lake. They started, however, in 
quest of the American camp, and after travelling 
about nearly one hour, they were hailed by a Brit- 
ish sentinel, and did but just make their escape. 
They then took a different direction, and Wallace 
gave both despatches into Webster's hands, and 
told him to keep in the rear, and he would go for- 
ward ; and if he should happen to fall into the 
hands of the enemy, Webster might have opportu- 
nity to escape with the despatches. But they had 
not proceeded a great way before Wallace was 
hailed by a sentinel — " Who comes there ? " "A 
friend," says Wallace. " A friend to whom ? " says 
the sentinel. " Advance, and give the countersign." 
This was a fearful moment. Wallace hesitated for 
an instant, and then replied, by way of question, 
'• Whose friend are you ? " The sentinel responded, 
" A friend to America." " So am I," said Wallace, 
" and have important despatches for your general." 
They were immediately conducted to the general's 
quarters, the despatches were delivered, and Wal- 
lace and Webster were received with every mark 
of surprise and gratitude, and every thing was done 
to render them comfortable and happy. But Wal- 



AN ACT OF COURAGE. 169 

lace never enjoyed the degree of health afterwards 
that he did prior to that chill and almost incredi- 
ble effort. Wallace departed this life February 7, 
1833, aged eighty. Mrs. Wallace died May, 1831, 
aged eighty-one. 

Webster's subsequent history is worthy of a pass- 
ing notice. At the time he visited Newbury last, 
he was residing among the Oneida Indians, New 
York. They had adopted him as their brother, 
promoted him to be chief in their tribe, and, to ren- 
der the tie indissoluble, they had given him for a 
wife one of the black-haired maidens of the forest. 
Webster's health was not permanently injured by 
his dangerous adventure. 
15 



THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN. 

FROM AN ADMIRABLE POEM BY " H.," ORIGINALLY PL^BLISHED 
IN THE DEMOCRATIC RE\^EW OF APRIL, 1839. SEE FRONTIS- 
PIECE. 

Where a tall post beside the road displays 
Its lettered arm, pointing the traveller's eye 
Through the small opening 'mid the green birch 

trees, 
Towards yonder mountain summit towering nigh, 
There pause ; what doth thy anxious gaze espy ? 
An abrupt crag hung from the mountain's brow I 
Look closer ; scan that bare sharp cliff on high ; 
Aha ! the wondrous shape bursts on thee now — 
A perfect human face — neck, chin, mouth, nose, and 

brow ! 

And full and plain those features are displayed. 
Thus profiled forth against the clear blue sky. 
As though some sculptor's chisel here had made 
This fragment of colossal imagery. 
The compass of his plastic art to try. 
From the curved neck up to the shaggy hair 
That shoots in pine trees from the head on high, 
All, all is perfect ; no illusions there. 
To cheat the expecting eye with fancied forms of air. 

(170) 



THE OLD MAN OP THE MOUNTAIN. 171 

Most wondrous vision I the broad earth hath not 
Through all her bounds an object like to thee, 
That travellers e'er recorded, nor a spot 
More fit to stir the poet's phantasy ; 
Gray Old Man op the Mountain, awfully 
There from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear 
Those features grand — the same eternally ; 
Lone dweller 'mid the hills, with gaze austere, 
Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here. 

And curious travellers have descried the trace 
Of the sage Franklin's physiognomy 
In that most grave and philosophic face : 
If it be true, Old Man, that here we see 
Sage Franklin's countenance, thou indeed must be 
A learned philosopher, most wise and staid, 
From all that thou hast had a chance to see, 
Since earth began ; here thou, too, oft hast played 
With lightnings glancing frequent round thy rugged 
head. 

Thou saw'st the tawny Indian's light canoe 
Glide o'er the pond that glistens at thy feet, 
And the white hunter first emerge to view 
From up yon ravine, where the mountains meet, 
To scare -the red man from his ancient seat, 
Where he had roamed for ages, wild and free. 
The motley stream which since from every state 
And clime through this wild vale pours ceaselessly, 
Travellers, gay tourists, all have been a theme to 
thee. 



172 THE OLD MAN OP THE MOUNTAIN. 

In thee the simple-minded Indian saw 
The image of his more benignant God, 
And viewed with deep and reverential awe 
The spot where the Great Spirit made abode ; 
"When storms obscured thee, and red lightnings 

glowed 
From the dark clouds oft gathered round thy 

face, 
He saw thy form in anger veiled, nor rowed 
His birchen bark, nor sought the wild deer chase, 
Till thy dark frown had passed, and sunshine filled 

its place. 

that some bard would rise — true heir of 

glory, -~ 
With the full power of heavenly poesy, 
To gather up each old romantic story 
That lingers round these scenes in memory, 
And consecrate to immortality ; 
Some western Scott, within whose bosom thrills 
That fire which burneth to eternity — 
To pour his spirit o'er these mighty hills, 
And make them classic ground, thrice hallowed by 
his spells. 

But backward turn; the wondrous shape hath 

gone; 
The round hill towers before thee, smoothly green ; 
Pass but a few short paces further on. 
Nought but the ragged mountain side is seen ; 
Thus oft do earthly things delude, I ween, 



THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN. 173 

That in prospective glitter bright and fair, 
While time, or space, or labor intervene ; 
Approach them, every charm dissolves to air ; 
Each gorgeous hue hath fled, and all is rude and bare. 
15* 



THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 

ORIGINAL. F. C. 

Among all the men who were engaged during 
those early times when unflinching courage and firm 
self-reliance were the only assurances of safety in 
battling for their own existence and that of the 
dear ones who clustered around their firesides, there 
weiie none, from one end of the American shores 
to the other, whose brave and daring spirit was 
held in so much repute as was that of the New 
Hampshire Rangers. Thoroughly inured to the 
hardships of a frontier life, and initiated by experi- 
ence into all the stratagems of border warfare, they 
made soldiers, when it became time for them to take 
the gun in hand, that friends could depend upon, 
and that enemies could not but fear. This fact has 
been attested by every engagement in which these 
troops took any part. It is only necessary to men- 
tion the well-known battles of Bunker Hill and 
Bennington, and the capture of Ticonderoga, to 
enable the reader to draw his own conclusions. 

The incident which the writer is about to narrate 
is but another testimony to the same fact — the 

(174) 



THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 175 

most of it a family tradition, which now for the 
first time takes its place upon the historic page. 

In the year 1755, the second from the beginning 
of the old French war, Baron Dieskau, a brave and 
experienced officer, was ordered to proceed from 
Canada up Lake Champlain, and to seize, if possible, 
the English posts upon that lake and Lake George. 
To effect that purpose he took with him a strong 
detachment of French regulars, Canadians, and In- 
dians, amounting in all to eighteen hundred men. 
Before any part of his object had been accomplished, 
however, he engaged in battle with General William 
Johnson, upon the banks of Lake George, was en- 
tirely defeated, and himself received a mortal 
wound. Such of his men as were able to make 
their escape retreated to a place about four miles 
from the battle field, and there encamped. 

In the mean time a party consisting of two hun- 
dred New Hampshire Rangers had been despatched 
from Fort Edward to assist the main body of pro- 
vincials under General Johnson. This party was 
commanded by Captain McGinness, of New Hamp- 
shire, a capable and vigilant officer. Proceeding 
cautiously through the woods, the scouts in advance 
discovered the French and Canadian soldiers in 
their camp, numbering several hundreds. The 
Rangers were speedily informed of the proximity 
of their foe, and though greatly outnumbered, their 
intrepid hearts would not allow them to retreat. 
They determined to attack ; and as the word was 
given to advance, each man seized his firelock with 



176 THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 

firmer grasp, and moved on steadily and in order. 
It was now afternoon, and the French officers were 
in the centre of the camp, engaged in consultation 
as to how they might make the best of their disas- 
trous condition, and get back to Canada in the 
quickest possible manner. The men were standing 
about, some cooking, some arranging their muskets 
and accoutrements, when the sentinels, who had not 
perceived the cautious approach of the Rangers till 
they were close upon them, gave the alarm. They 
sprang to arms with all the energy of desperation. 
But the movements of the hardy sons of New Hamp- 
shire were far too rapid to allow them to form in 
battle array. 

Hardly had the warning shout of the sentinels 
rung through the camp when it was followed by a 
huzza which made the welkin ring again, and in an 
instant the bold Rangers poured in upon them with 
so fierce an onset that neither Canadians, French- 
men, nor Indians could stand against them for a 
moment. All order and subordination were of 
course destroyed. Every man fought for himself, 
as best he could — some from behind trees, some 
from rocks, some lying at length behind little pieces 
of rising ground, firing in terror or in random and 
desperate fury. From their superior numbers they 
might even then have gained the victory ; but the 
New Hampshire men understood this kind of fight- 
ing even better than they, and having once put their 
hand to the work they would never turn back. 
Selecting their stations with a practised eye, they 



THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 177 

maintained the contest with unabated vigor, fight- 
ing man to man, or sending their unerring bullets 
wherever a head or part of a body offered a mark 
for their deadly aim. 

Two hours passed on, and the battle raged as 
fiercely as ever. The forests still rang loudly with 
the reports of muskets, the cheers of the provin- 
cials, and the yells and shouts of the savages and 
the French. The blue smoke grew thicker as it 
curled slowly up among the trees, and the sun, as it 
went downward in the heavens, sent a darker shade 
from the thick foliage over the heads of the com- 
batants. Yet the fight went on, and neither party 
had secured the advantage. The intrepidity and 
skill of the rangers were an equal match for the num- 
bers of their foe. Neither was inclined to yield. 

At last, however, the tide of victory was turned 
completely in favor of the Americans by a ruse of 
their able commander. The drummer and fifer of 
the company had, at the beginning of the battle, 
laid themselves down for safety behind a large log, 
at some little distance in the rear of their com- 
rades. Captain McGinness, observing this, cau- 
tiously approached them, and gave directions that 
at a given signal from him they should rise up and 
vigorously ply their instruments. He then quietly 
returned to his place, and gave the pre-concerted 
sign. The musicians sprang to their feet, and their 
lusty efforts soon made the woods reecho with the 
martial sounds. " A reenforcement ! " shouted Cap- 
tain McGinness ; " men, to your work ! " Right 



178 THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 

and left caught up the words, and the cry of " Re- 
enforcements ! reenforcements ! " animated the hearts 
and gave new vigor to the arms of the provincials, 
while it sent terror to the hearts of their opponents. 
Panic-stricken at the sounds, they could no longer 
stand their ground. They rushed headlong from 
their places, and fled through the woods in the wild- 
est disorder and dismay — the polished Frenchman 
and the savage striving only as to which should 
get first from the presence of their dreaded foe. 
The Rangers followed them with vigor, but the pur- 
suit was short, for darkness soon put a stop to the 
prospect of accomplishing any thing among the tan- 
gled under-brush. And thus, under cover of night, 
the French and Indians got away as best they could. 

The Rangers found, on calling the roll, that they 
had lost but twelve men, while the ground was 
strewed with the dead bodies of the enemy. 

The writer cannot forbear to add an interesting 
incident that occurred during this battle. One 
Jonathan Chase, of Hopkinton, N. H., an expert 
marksman, had located himself somewhere near the 
centre of the belligerents. In the course of the 
action he was led to notice a large stump, nearly 
opposite him, a little in advance of the main body 
of the enemy. From this a shot was fired at inter- 
vals, and almost always to the injury of some one 
of his comrades. Looking carefully at the stump, 
he discovered a knot hole in the front of it, through 
which presently the muzzle of a musket was pushed, 
and, after a moment's delay, discharged. As quick 



THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 179 

as thought Chase's plan was laid. Knowing that 
the savage would desire to learn the effect of his 
shot, he levelled his musket, waited an instant, then 
sent his bullet straight through the aperture. A 
faint yell reached his ear, and the body of a huge 
savage rose from the stump, and fell heavily to the 
ground. The work of death was as sure as it was 
speedy. 

When the enemy were seized with panic. Chase 
followed them, and passing the body of his foe, 
snatched from his pack a wooden hominy-spoon 
which hung outside. He then observed that the 
stump was hollowed out like a tray, thus afford- 
ing its occupant protection. The only opening was 
that which the Indian had used as a port hole, and 
through which the bullet of the keen-eyed marksman 
had entered. The Indian was shot through the 
brain, the ball having entered just above the right 
eye. 

The wooden spoon was carried home, and remained 
long in the family as a valued relic. It was a curi- 
ous specimen of savage workmanship, much orna- 
mented, and having the figure of an Indian carved 
Upon the handle. The bowl was large, and a pro- 
jection on the handle served for a sort of pedestal 
for the Indian figure, which was in a sitting posture, 
the elbows resting on the knees, and the hands hold- 
ing to the mouth a water bottle, from which he was 
drinking. 

This spoon was an object of great interest to the 



180 THE NEW HAMPSHIRE RANGERS. 

youngsters of the family ; and when the head of its 
brave winner was silvered with age, it was his de- 
light, as well as theirs, to have them gather around 
him t>n a winter evening, and ask him to tell over 
again the story of the wooden spoon. 



THE BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

The following account is taken as it stands from 
a book published more than fifty years ago. It was 
written by Zadoc Steele, who was taken and carried 
captive by the enemy at the time of the attack, and 
who afterwards escaped and returned through great 
suffering and privation to his home and friends. It 
may therefore be relied upon as a faithful account 
of the scenes it describes. At the first reading, the 
editor took his pencil in his hand to correct some 
inaccuracies of style which met his eye ; but finding 
that one alteration would lead to many more, and 
that in endeavoring to improve the style he would 
be likely to destroy the vivid and graphic character 
which an eye witness had impressed upon the ac- 
count, he determined to insert the whole story in 
its original dress. For pathos and copiousness of 
language the author could hardly be excelled. Had 
he possessed a thorough education, no doubt he 
would have stood equal, if not superior, in these 
respects, even to the two famous historians of Napo- 
leon the Great which our own times have produced. 

As a union of interest always strengthens the 
bonds of affection, so a participation in extreme 
16 (181) 



182 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

sufferings will never fail to produce a mutual sensi- 
bility. Prompted by a generous glow of filial love 
and affection, we generally take delight in survey- 
ing whatever gave our forefathers joy, and are ready 
to drop a sympathetic tear when we review the suf- 
ferings which they have undergone. But, contrary 
to the laws of sympathy and justice, the attention 
of the public is often engrossed with accounts of the 
more dreadful conflagrations of populous cities in 
foreign countries, or the defeat of armies in the 
field of carnage ; while the destruction of small 
frontier settlements by the Indian tribes in our own 
country is at the same time little known, if not 
entirely forgotten. Thus the miseries of our neigh- 
bors and friends around us, whose bitter cries have 
been heard in our streets, are too often suffered to 
pass unnoticed down the current of time into the 
tomb of oblivion. 

The burning of Royalton was an event most in- 
auspicious and distressing to the first settlers of 
that town. Nor is it a little strange that, among 
the numerous authors who have recorded the events 
of the American revolution, some of them have not 
given place in their works to a more full detail of 
that afflictive scene. 

Laboring under all the difficulties and hardships 
to which our infant settlements were subject, and 
striving by persevering industry to soar above every 
obstacle which might present itself to obstruct their 
progress, they had filled their barns with the fruits 
of the land, their storehouses were crowded with 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 183 

the comforts of life, and all nature seemed to wear 
a propitious smile. All around them promised pros- 
perity. They were far removed from the noise of 
war ; and, though conscious of their danger, fondly 
hoped they should escape the ravages of a savage 
foe. 

Royalton was chartered in the year 1779. A con- 
siderable settlement, however, had taken place pre- 
vious to that time, and the town was in a thriving 
condition. Large stocks of cattle, which would 
confer honor upon the enterprise of farmers in old 
countries, were here seen grazing in their fields. 

United by common interest, living on terms of 
friendship, and manifesting that each one in a good 
degree " loved his neighbor as himself," harmony 
prevailed in their borders, social happiness was 
spread around their firesides, and plenty crowned 
their labors. But, alas! the dreadful reverse re- 
mains to be told. While joys possessed were turned 
to sorrows, their hopes for joys to come were 
blasted. And as the former strongly marked the 
grievous contrast between a state of prosperity and 
affliction, the latter only showed the fallacy of prom- 
ising ourselves the future. 

On the morning of the 16th of October, 1780, 
before the dawn of day, the inhabitants of this town 
were surprised by the approach of about three hun- 
dred Indians of various tribes. They were led by 
the Caghnewaga tribe, and had left Canada intend- 
ing to destroy Newbury, a town in the eastern part 
of Vermont, on Connecticut River. A British lieu- 



184 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

tenant by the name of Horton was their chief com- 
mander ; and one Le Mott, a Frenchman, was his 
second. Their pilot, or leader, was a despicable 
villain, by the name of Hamilton, who had been 
made prisoner by the Americans at the taking of 
Burgoyne in 1777. He had been at Newbury and 
Eoyalton the preceding summer on parole of honor, 
left the latter place with several others, under pre- 
tence of going to survey lands in the northern part 
of this state, and went directly to the enemy. He 
was doubtless the first instigator of those awful 
depredations which were the bitter fruits of this ex- 
pedition, and which ought to stamp his name with 
infamy and disgrace. 

On their way thither, it is said, they came across 
several men from Newbury, who were engaged in 
hunting near the place where Montpelier village 
now stands, and made them prisoners. They made 
known their object to these hunters, and inquired of 
them whether an armed force was stationed at New- 
bury. Knowing the defenceless state of that town, 
and hoping they should be able to induce the In- 
dians to relinquish their object and return to Canada, 
they told them that such an armed garrison was kept 
at Newbury as would render it extremely dangerous 
for them to approach — thus artfully dissembling by 
ambiguity of expression the true condition of their 
fellow-townsmen, and, like Rahab the harlot, saved 
their father's house from destruction. 

Unwilling, however, that their expedition should 
prove wholly fruitless, they turned their course to 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 185 

Royalton. No arguments which the prisoners could 
adduce were sufficient to persuade them from that 
determination. 

Following up Onion River as far as the mouth of 
Stevens's branch, which empties into the river at 
Montpelier, they steered their course through Barre, 
at that time called Wildersburg ; proceeded up 
Gaol branch, which forms a part of Stevens's branch, 
and travelled over the mountains through Orange 
and Washington ; thence down the first branch of 
White River, through Chelsea and Tunbridge, to 
Royalton. They laid in their encampment at Tun- 
bridge, not far distant from Royalton, during the 
Sabbath, the day preceding their attack upon the 
latter place, for the purpose of concerting measures 
to carry into effect their atrocious and malignant 
designs. Here were matured those diabolical seeds 
of depredation and cruelty from which sprang bit- 
terness, sorrow, and death. 

As they entered the town before daylight ap- 
peared, darkness covered their approach, and they 
were not discovered till Monday morning at dawn 
of day, when they entered the house of Mr. John 
Hutchinson, who resided not far from the line sep- 
arating Royalton from Tunbridge. He was totally 
ignorant of their approach, and wholly unsuspicious 
of danger till they burst the door upon him. 

Here they took Mr. John Hutchinson and Abijah 

Hutchinson, his brother, prisoners, and plundered 

the house ; crossed the first branch, and went to the 

house of Mr. Robert Havens, who lived at a small 

16^ 



186 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

distance from Mr. Hutclimsoii's. Mr. Havens had 
gone out into his pasture in pursuit of his sheep, 
and having ascended a hill about forty rods from 
his house, hearing his neighbor Hutchinson's dog 
bark, halted, and stood in pensive silence. Here 
he listened with deep anxiety to know the extent 
of the evil he feared. But, alas ! he little expected 
to find a herd of savage men. It was his only fear 
that some voracious animal was among his sheep, 
which so disturbed the watchful dog. While he 
listened in silence, with his thoughts suspended, he 
heard a noise as of sheep or cattle running with full 
speed through the water. Casting his eye to the 
west, towards his own dwelling, he beheld a com- 
pany of Indians just entering the door. Seeing his 
own danger, he immediately laid down under a log, 
and hid himself from their sight. But he could not 
hide sorrow from his mind. Here he wept. Tears 
trickling down his withered cheeks bespoke the 
anguish of his soul while he thought upon the diS' 
tress of his family. With groanings unutterable he 
lay a while, heard the piercing shrieks of his be- 
loved wife, and saw his sons escaping for their 
lives. 

Laden with the weight of years, decrepit and in- 
firm, he was sensible if he appeared in sight it would 
prove his death. He therefore resolved not to move 
until a favorable opportunity presented. His son, 
Daniel Havens, and Thomas Pember were in the 
house, and made their appearance at the door a lit- 
tle before the Indians came up. Beholding the foe 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 18^ 

"but few rods distant, they ran for their lives. Daniel 
Havens made his escape by throwing himself over a 
hedge fence down the bank of the branch and 
crawling under a log, although a large number of 
the Indians passed directly over it in pursuit of 
him. Who can tell the fears that agitated his 
bosom while these savage pursuers stepped upon the 
log under which he lay? and who can tell the joys 
he felt when he saw them pass off, leaving him in 
safety ? — a quick transition from painful fear and 
imminent danger to joyful peace and calm retire- 
ment. They pursued Thomas Pember till they came 
so near as to throw a spear at him, which pierced 
his body and put an end to his existence. He ran 
some time, however, after he was wounded, till by 
loss of blood he fainted, fell, and was unable to 
proceed farther. The savage monsters came up, 
several times thrust a spear through his body, took 
off his scalp, and left him food for worms. While 
they were tearing his scalp from his head, how did 
his dying groans pierce the skies and call on Him 
who holds the scales of justice to mark their cruelty 
and avenge his blood ! 

He had spent the night previous at the house of 
Mr. Havens, engaged in amorous conversation with a 
daughter of Mr. Havens, who was his choice compan- 
ion, the intended partner of his life. 

By imagination we view the fair survivor sur- 
rounded by the savage tribe, whose frightful aspect 
threatened ruin ; her soul overwhelmed with fear, 
and stung with grief, bereft of her dearest friend. 



188 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

They made the house of Mr. Havens their rallying 
point, or post of observation, and stationed a part 
of their company there to guard their baggage and 
make preparations for retreat when they had com- 
pleted their work of destruction. Like the messen- 
ger of death, silent and merciless, they were scarcely 
seen till felt ; or, if seen, filled the mind with terror, 
nor often afforded opportunity for escape. Moving 
with violent steps, they proceeded down the first 
branch to its mouth ; while a number, armed with 
spears, led the van, and were followed by others, 
armed with muskets and scalping knives. The for- 
mer they called runners, who were directed to kill 
all those who should be overtaken in an attempt to 
escape ; while the latter, denominated gunners, took 
charge of the prisoners, and scalped those who were 
killed. 

They had not proceeded far before a young man, by 
the name of Elias Button, being ignorant of their ap- 
proach, made his appearance in the road but a few 
rods from them. Espying his danger, he turned and 
ran with the greatest possible speed in his power to 
escape their cruel hands. The savage tribe pursued 
him with their usual agility, soon overtook the trem- 
bling youth, pierced his body with their spears, took 
off his scalp, and left him weltering in his gore. 
Young, vigorous, and healthy, and blessed with the 
brightest hopes of long life and good days, he was 
overtaken by the merciless stroke of death without 
having a minute's warning. Innocence and bravery 
were no shield, nor did activity secure him a safe 
retreat. 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 189 

That they might be enabled to fall upon the inhab- 
itants unawares, and thereby secure a greater num- 
ber of prisoners as well as procure a greater quan- 
tity of plunder, they kept profound silence till they 
had arrived at the mouth of the branch. 

After killing Pember and Button, and taking such 
plunder as most pleased their fancy, they proceeded 
to the house of Joseph Kneeland, who resided about 
half a mile distant from the house of Mr. Havens. 
Here they found Messrs. Simeon Belknap, Giles 
Gibbs, and Jonathan Brown, together with Joseph 
Kneeland and his aged father, all of whom they 
made prisoners. They then went to the house of 
Mr. Elias Curtis, where they took Mr. Curtis, John 
Kent, and Peter Mason. Mrs. Curtis had just 
waked from the slumbers of the night, and was 
about dressing herself as she sat upon her bed, 
when the savage monsters entered the door ; and 
one of them instantly flew at her, with a large knife 
in his hand, and seized her by the neck, apparently 
intending to cut her throat. While in the very at- 
titude of inflicting the fatal wound, the murderous 
wretch discovered a string of gold beads around 
her neck, which attracted his attention, and pre- 
vented the dreadful stroke of death. Thus his 
avidity for gold allayed his thirst for human blood. 
His raging passions were suddenly cooled ; curiosity 
restrained his vengeance and spared the life of the 
frightened object of his cruelty. He had put the 
knife to her throat, and eternity seemed open to her 
view ; but instead of taking her life he only took 



190 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

her beads, and left her rejoicing at her deliverance. 
The barbarous looks of the wicked crew bespoke 
their malignant designs, and caused horror and dis- 
may to fill the minds of all who beheld them. But, 
alas ! who can tell what horror thrilled the bosom 
of this trembling woman? What fearful pangs 
were made to pierce her soul ! Behold the tawny 
wretch, with countenance wild and awful grimaces, 
standing by her bedside, holding her by the throat 
with one hand, and the weapon of death in the other ! 
See standing around her a crowd of brutal savages, 
the sons of violence, foul tormenters ! In vain do I 
attempt to paint the scene. Nor will I pretend to 
describe the feelings of a kind and tender mother, 
who, reposing in the arms of sleep, with her infant 
at her bosom, is roused from her slumbers by the ap- 
proach of a tribe of savage Indians at her bedside. 
To prevent an alarm from being sounded abroad, 
they commanded the prisoners to keep silence on 
pain of death. While the afflicted inhabitants be- 
held their property wasted and their lives exposed to 
the arrows of death, it caused their hearts to swell 
with grief. But they were debarred the privilege of 
making known their sufferings to their nearest friends, 
or even to pour o\it their cries of distress, while sur- 
rounded by the savage band, whose malevolent ap- 
pearance could not fail to spread fear and distress in 
every bosom. They plundered every house they 
found till they arrived at the mouth of the branch. 
Here the commander, a British officer, took his stand 
with a small party of Indians, while some went up 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. IM 

and others down on each side of the river to complete 
the work of destruction. They had already taken 
several horses, which some of them rode, to facilitate 
their march and enable them to overtake those who 
attempted to make their escape. Frightened at the 
horrible appearance of their riders, who were in no 
way qualified to manage them, the horses served 
rather to impede than hasten their progress. 

Instigated by " the powers of darkness," fired 
with rage, eager to obtain that booty which they 
acquired by the pillage of houses, and fearful, at the 
same time, that they should themselves fall a prey 
to the American forces, they pursued their ravages 
with infuriated zeal, and violence and horror at- 
tended their movement. 

General Elias Stevens, who resided in the first 
house on the river above the mouth of the branch, 
had gone down the river about two miles, and was 
engaged at work with his oxen and cart. While 
busily employed loading his cart, casting his eye up 
the river he beheld a man approaching, bareheaded, 
with his horse upon the run, who, seeing General 
Stevens, cried out, " For God's sake, turn out your 
oxen, for the Indians are at the mill ! " * General 
Stevens hastened to unyoke his oxen, turned them 
out, and immediately mounted his horse and started 
to return to his family, filled with fearful apprehen- 
sions for the fate of his beloved wife and tender off- 
spring. He had left them in apparent safety, repos- 

* The mills to which he referred, owned by a Mr. Morgan, were sit- 
uated on the first branch, near its mouth. 



192 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

ing in the arms of sleep. Having proceeded on his 
return about half way home, he met Captain Joseph 
Parkhurst, who informed him that the Indians were 
but a few rods distant, in swift pursuit down the river, 
and that, unless he returned immediately, he would 
inevitably fall into their hands. 

Apprised of his danger, he turned and accompanied 
the captain down the river. Conjugal and parental 
affection alone can suggest to the imagination of the 
reader what were the feelings of General Stevens 
when compelled for his own safety to leave the wife of 
his bosom and their little ones to the mercy of a sav- 
age foe. What pains did he feel when he found him- 
self deprived of all possible means to afford them re- 
lief ! Nor could he expect a more favorable event 
than to find them all sacrificed at the shrine of savage 
barbarity. Who, not totally devoid of sympathy, 
can refrain to drop a tear as he reflects upon those 
painful emotions which agitated the general's breast 
when he was forced to turn his back upon his beloved 
family while thus exposed to danger ? Indeed, it was 
his only source of consolation that he might be able 
to afford assistance to his defenceless neighbors ; and 
as they soon came to the house of Deacon Daniel Rix, 
he there found opportunity to lend the hand of pity. 
General Stevens took Mrs. Rix and two or three 
children with him upon his horse ; Captain Park- 
hurst took Mrs. Benton and several children upon 
his horse with him ; and they all rode off as fast as 
possible, accompanied by Deacon Rix and several 
others on foot, till they arrived at the place where 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 193 

the general first received the alarm. Filled with 
anxiety for his family, and not having seen any In- 
dians, General Stevens here concluded again to 
return, hoping he should be able to reach home in 
time to secure his household from danger before the 
Indians arrived. Leaving Mrs. Rix and children in 
the care of a Mr. Burroughs, he started for home, 
and had proceeded about half a mile when he discov- 
ered the Indians in the road ahead of him, but a few 
rods distant. He quickly turned about, hastened his 
retreat, soon overtook the company he had left, and 
entreated them immediately to leave the road and 
take to the woods, to prevent being taken. Those 
who were on foot jumped over the fence, hastened to 
the woods out of sight of the Indians, where they re- 
mained in safety, undiscovered by the savage foe, who 
kept the road in pursuit of General Stevens. He 
passed down the road about half a mile, and came to 
the house of Mr. Tilly Parkhurst, his father-in-law. 
Seeing his sister engaged in milking by the barn, he 
"told her to leave her cow immediately, or the In- 
dians would have her," and left her to secure her 
own retreat. They were now in plain sight, not 
more than eighty or a hundred rods off. The road 
was full of them, running like bloodhounds. The 
general rode to the house, told them to run for their 
lives, and proceeded to warn others who lived con- 
tiguous. By this time the way was filled with men, 
women, and children, and a large body of Indians in 
open view but just behind them. The savage tribe 
now began to make the surrounding wilderness 
17 



194 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

reecho with their frightful yells. Frightened and 
alarmed for their safety, children clung to their par- 
ents ; and half-distracted mothers, filled with fearful 
apprehensions of approaching destruction, were 
heard to make the air resound with their cries of 
distress. General Stevens endeavored to get them 
into the woods, out of sight of the Indians. Fear 
had usurped the power of reason, and Wisdom's 
voice was drowned in the torrent of distraction. 
There was no time for argument ; all was at stake ; 
the enemy hard by, and fast approaching ; defence- 
less mothers, with helpless infants in their arms, flee- 
ing for their lives. Despair was spread before them, 
while the roaring flood of destruction seemed rolling 
behind them. Few could be persuaded to go into 
the woods ; and most of them kept the road till 
they arrived at the house of Captain E. Parkhurst, 
in Sharon. Here they halted a moment to take 
breath, hoping they should not be pursued any far- 
ther. The Indians, being taken up in plundering 
the houses, had now fallen considerably in the rear. 
But the unhappy victims of distress had not long 
been here when the cruel pursuers again appeared 
in sight. 

Screaming and crying now witnessed the horrors 
of that dreadful scene. Groans and tears bespoke 
the feelings of a heart agitated with fear and swol- 
len with grief. There was no time to be lost. 
While they waited they waited for destruction. 
Children hanging to their mothers' clothes ; moth- 
ers inquiring what they should do, and calling for 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 195 

assistance ; floods of tears and piercing shrieks, — 
all presented to view a most painful scene. Seeing 
the Indians approaching with hideous yells that 
thrilled the heart of every one, General Stevens put 
his mother and his sister upon his own horse. Cap- 
tain Joseph Parkhurst put Mrs. Rix and three of 
her children upon another horse, without a bridle, 
and ordered them to hasten their flight. There yet 
remained the wife of Captain E. Parkhurst, who 
stood in the most critical situation in which a wo- 
man can be placed, begging and crying for help, 
surrounded by six small children clinging to her 
clothes and pleading with her for protection. Alas I 
how awful was the spectacle, how afi'ecting the 
scene, to see a woman in this deplorable condition 
pleading for succor when none could help, when 
safety and support had fled, and dangers were rush- 
ing upon her ! A heart not devoid of sympathy 
could not fail to weep. Conscious of her wretched 
situation, feeling for her dear children, being told 
there was no probability for her escape, gathering 
her little ones around her she wept in bitterness of 
soul ; tears of pity ran down her cheeks while she 
waited the approach of the savage tribe to inflict 
upon her whatever malice could invent or inhuman- 
ity devise. 

Her husband, to v/hom she fain would have looked 
for protection, was gone from home when all her 
woes fell upon her. Well might she say, " There- 
fore are my loins filled with pain ; pangs have taken 
hold upon me as the pangs of a woman that trav- 



196 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

aileth ; my heart panted ; fearfulness affrighted me ; 
the night of my pleasure hath he turned into fear 
unto me." While Mrs. Parkhurst saw her friends 
and neighbors fleeing from her, and beheld the In- 
dians approaching with impetuous step, her bosom 
throbbed with anguish ; horror seized her soul ; and 
death, immediate death, both to her and her chil- 
dren, " stood thick around her," threatening to 
thrust his dagger into her aching heart. There was 
no time to decide on the priority of claims to pity 
or the demands of justice. Those who were near- 
est at hand first received assistance ; not, however, 
without regard to that affection which arises from 
consanguinity or matrimonial connection ; and these 
relations not only unite the hearts but connect the 
hands in scenes of distress. 

At the time General Stevens put his mother and 
his sister upon his horse, the Indians were not eight 
rods from him ; they, in company with Mrs. Rix and 
her children, rode off as fast as possible : the gen- 
eral followed with several others on foot. Part of 
the Indians pursued them, while others entered the 
house and plundered it of its furniture. They took 
her eldest son from her ; then ordered her, with the 
rest of her children, to leave the house. She ac- 
cordingly repaired into the fields back of the house 
with five of her children, and remained in safety till 
they had left the place. Soon after General Stevens 
started, his dog came in his way, and caused him to 
stumble and fall, which so retarded his progress 
that he was obliged to flee to the woods for safety, 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. l^lf 

leaving the women and children to make the best 
of their retreat. The Indians pursued down the 
road after them with frightful yells, and soon over- 
took those who were on foot. They took Gardner 
Rix, son of Deacon Rix,* a boy about fourteen 
years old, just at the heels of his mother's horse, 
while she was compelled to witness the painful sight. 
Alas ! what distress and horror filled her bosom, 
when she, with three of her children no less dear 
than herself, fleeing from the savage foe, mounted 
upon a horse snorting with fear, having nothing but 
a pocket handkerchief in his mouth for a bridle, saw 
her wearied son, faint for want of breath, fall a cap- 
tive to this barbarous crew ! Cruel fate ! The 
trembling youth, overwhelmed with fear and bathed 
in tears, was now torn from his tender parents, and 
compelled to roam the wilderness to unknown re- 
gions. Nor was the disconsolate mother, with her 
other little ones, left in a much more safe condition. 
Exposed and expecting every step to fall to the 
ground, which, if it proved not their death, would 
leave them a prey to the savage monsters, no tongue 
can tell the pains she felt, nor pen describe the hor- 
rors of her soul. To behold her little son, while 
fleeing for his life, fall into the hands of these sons 
of cruelty, what kind and tender mother would not 
feel her heart to bleed ? May we not listen to the 
voice of Imagination, and hear her say, — 

* Captain Rix then lived where Mr. Phelps now lives. 1853. 

17* 



198 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

'• O infinite distress ! such raging grief 
Should command pity, and despair relief; 
Passion, raethinks, should rise from all my groans, 
Give sense to rocks and sympathy to stones " ? 

The Indians pursued the women and children as 
far as the house of Mr. Benedict, the distance of 
about a mile. They effected their escape, though 
surrounded with dangers and pursued with impetu- 
ous and clamorous steps. Here they discovered 
Mr. Benedict on the opposite side of a stream, called 
Broad Brook, which ran near the house. They 
beckoned to have him come over to them ; choos- 
ing, however, not to hazard the consequences of 
yielding obedience to their request, he turned and 
ran a short distance, and hid himself under a log. 
He had not long been in this situation when these 
bloodthirsty wretches came and stood upon the same 
log, and were heard by him to exclaim, in angry . 
tone, " If we could find him he should feel the tom- 
ahawk." 

After standing upon the log some time, and en- 
deavoring to espy the concealed, trembling object 
of their pursuit, they left him and returned to the 
house. Ah, what joy filled his bosom when he saw 
these messengers of death pass away, leaving him in 
safety! How must his heart have glowed with 
gratitude towards the " great Preserver of men " at 
this unexpected deliverance from the most imminent 
danger ! 

His joys, however, were not unmingled with sor- 
row, as the fell destroyers were still at his house, 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 199 

committing ravages and wasting his property. But 
no man can be supposed to put his property in com- 
petition with his life. 

The Indians pursued down the river about forty 
rods farther, where they made a young man, by the 
name of Avery, prisoner, and then concluded to 
return. 

While they were at the house of Tilly Parkhurst, 
aforementioned, (which was about six miles from 
the place they entered Royalton,) his son, Phineas 
Parkhurst, who had been to alarm the people on the 
east side of the river, just as he entered the stream 
on his return discovered the Indians at his father's 
door. Finding himself in danger, he immediately 
turned to go back ; and the Indians just at this time 
happened to see him, and fired upon him. This was 
the first gun they fired after they entered the town. 
The ball entered his back, went through his body, 
came out under his ribs, and lodged in the skin : 
notwithstanding the wound, he was, however, able 
to ride, and continued his retreat to Lebanon, in th^ 
State of New Hampshire, the distance of about six- 
teen miles, with very little stop, supporting the ball 
between his fingers. He now resides in that town, 
and sustains the character of a useful physician, and 
an industrious, independent farmer. 

That party of Indians which went down on the 
east side of the river extended their ravages as far 
as the house of Captain Gilbert, in Sharon, where a 
public house is now kept by Captain Dana. Here 
they took a nephew of Captain Gilbert, by the name 



200 BURNING OP ROYALTON. 

of Nathaniel Gilbert, a boy about fifteen years of 
age. They now resolved to return, and commenced 
that waste of property which tracked their progress. 
As they retraced their steps, they set fire to all the 
buildings they found, of every description. They 
spread desolation and distress wherever they went. 
Houses filled with furniture and family supplies for 
the winter, barns stored with the fruits of industry, 
and fields stocked with herds of cattle were all laid 
waste. 

They shot and killed fourteen fat oxen in one yard, 
which, in consequence of the inhabitants being dis- 
persed, were wholly lost. Cows, sheep, and hogs, 
and, indeed, every creature designed by the God of 
nature to supply the wants of man, which came 
within their sight, fell a prey to these dreadful spoil- 
ers. Parents torn from their children, husbands 
separated from their wives, and children snatched 
from their parents presented to view an indescrib- 
able scene of wretchedness and distress. Some 
were driven from their once peaceful habitations 
into the adjacent wilderness for safety, there to 
wait the destruction of their property ; stung with 
the painful reflection that their friends, perhaps a 
kind father and afi'ectionate brother, were made 
captives, and compelled to travel with a tawny herd 
of savage men into the wild regions of the north, 
to be delivered into the hands of enemies and un- 
dergo the fatigues and dangers of a wretched captiv- 
ity ; or, what was scarcely more to be deplored, 
learn with pain that they had fallen the unhappy 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 201 

victims to the relentless fury of the savage tribe, 
and were weltering in their gore where there was 
no eye to pity or friendly hand to administer relief. 

The third party of Indians who went up the 
river first came to the house of General Stevens. 
Daniel Havens, whose escape I have mentioned, 
went directly there, and warned the family of their 
danger. Trembling with fear, he only stepped into 
the house, told them that " the Indians were as 
thick as the d — 1 at their house," and turned and 
went directly out, leaving the family to secure their 
own retreat. 

Mrs. Stevens and the family were in bed, except- 
ing her husband, who, as before stated, had gone 
down the river, about two miles from home. She 
immediately arose from her bed, flung some loose 
clothes over her, took up her child, and had scarce- 
ly got to the fire when a large body of Indians 
rushed in at the door. They immediately ransacked 
the house in search of men, and then took the beds 
and bedding, carried them out of doors, cut open 
the bedticks, and threw the feathers into the air. 
This made them sport enough. Nor did they fail 
to manifest their infernal gratification by their tar- 
tarean shouts and disingenuous conduct. 

Mrs. Stevens entreated them to let her have some 
clothes for herself and child ; but her entreaties 
were in vain. They were deaf to the calls of the 
needy, and disregarded the demands of justice. 
Her cries reached their ears, but nothing could 
excite one single glow of sympathy. Her destitute 



202 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

and suffering condition was plain before their eyes ; 
but they were blind to objects of compassion. Alas ! 
what bitterness of soul, what anguish, what heart- 
rending pangs of fear distressed her tender bosom ! 
Surrounded by these pitiless, terrific monsters in 
human shape, with her little offspring in her arms, 
whose piercing shrieks and tender age called for 
compassion ; exposed to the raging fire of savage 
jealousy, unquenchable by a mother's tears ; anxious 
for the safety and mourning the absence of her 
bosom friend, the husband of her youth, — it is be- 
yond the powers of imagination to conceive or lan- 
guage to express the sorrows of her heart. 

At one moment securely reposing in the arms of 
sleep, with her darling infant at her breast ; the 
next amid a savage crew, whose wicked hands were 
employed in spreading desolation and mischief, 
whose mortal rage exposed her to the arrows of 
death. After plundering the house they told Mrs. 
Stevens to " be gone or they would burn." She had 
been afraid to make any attempt to escape, but now 
gladly embraced the opportunity. She hastened 
into the adjacent wilderness, carrying her child, 
where she tarried till the Indians had left the 
town. 

A boy by the name of Daniel "Waller, about four- 
teen years old, who lived with General Stevens, 
hearing the alarm given by Mr. Havens, set out im- 
mediately to go to the general and give him the in- 
formation. He had proceeded about half a mile 
when he met the Indians, was taken prisoner, and 
carried to Canada. 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 203 

They left the house and barn of General Stevens 
in flames, and proceeded up the river as far as Mr. 
Durkee's, where they took two of his boys prison- 
ers, Adan and Andrew, and carried the former to 
Canada, who died there in prison. 

Seeing a smoke arise above the trees in the woods 
adjacent, the hostile invaders directed their course 
to the spot, where they found a young man, by the 
name of Prince Haskell, busily engaged in chop- 
ping, for the commencement of a settlement. Has- 
kell heard a rustling among the leaves behind him, 
and, turning round, beheld two Indians but a few 
feet from him. One stood with his gun pointed di- 
rectly at him, and the other in the attitude of throw- 
ing a tomahawk. Finding he had no chance to 
escape, he delivered himself up as a prisoner, and 
was also carried to Canada. He returned in about 
one year, after enduring the most extreme sufferings 
in his wanderings through the wilderness on his way 
home. 

A Mr. Chafee,* who lived at the house of Mr. 
Hendee, started early in the morning to go to the 
house of Mr. Elias Curtis to get his horse shod. 
On his way he saw Mr. John Kent ahead of him, 
who was upon the same business. Wishing to put in 
his claim before Mr. Chafee, he rode very fast, and 
arrived at the house first. He had scarcely dis- 
mounted from his horse when the Indians came out 
of the house, took him by the hair of his head, and 

♦ Mr. Chafee lived near where Mr. Dewey now lives, 1851. 



204 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

pulled him over backwards. Seeing this, Mr. 
Chafee immediately dismounted, jumped behind the 
shop, hastened away, keeping such a direction as 
would cause the shop to hide his retreat. Thus he 
kept out of sight of the Indians, efifected his escape, 
and returned to the house of Mr. Hendee.* On re- 
ceiving the alarm given by Mr. Chafee, Mr. Hendee 
directed his wife to take her little boy, about seven 
years old, and her little daughter, who was still 
younger, and hasten to one of their neighbors for 
safety, while he should go to Bethel, the town west 
of Royalton, and give the alarm at the fort. 

Mrs. Hendee had not proceeded far when she was 
met by several Indians upon the run, who took her 
little boy from her. Feeling anxious for the fate 
of her child, she inquired what they were going to 
do with him. They replied that they should make 
a soldier of him ; and then hastened away, pulling 
him along by the hand, leaving the weeping mother 
with her little daughter to witness the scene and 
hear the piercing shrieks of her darling son. 

This leads me to notice one instance of female 
heroism, blended with benevolence, displayed by 
Mrs. Hendee, whose name deserves ever to be held 
in remembrance by every friend of humanity. 

She was now separated from her husband, and 
placed in the midst of a savage crew, who were com- 
mitting the most horrid depredations and destroy- 
ing every kind of property that fell within their 

* Mr. Hendee lived near where Milo Dewey now lives, 1853. 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 



grasp. Defenceless, and exposed to the shafts of 
envy or the rage of a company of despicable tories 
and brutal savages, the afflicted mother, robbed of 
her only son, proceeded down the river with her 
tender little daughter hanging to her clothes, 
screaming with fear, pleading with her mother to 
keep away the Indians. 

In this condition, possessing uncommon resolution 
and great presence of mind, she determined again to 
get possession of her son. As she passed down the 
river she met several tories who were with the In- 
dians, of whom she continued to inquire what they 
intended to do with the children they had taken, 
and received an answer that they should kill them. 
Still determined not to part with her son, she passed 
on and soon discovered a large body of Indians 
stationed on the opposite side of the river. Wish- 
ing to find the commanding ofi&cer, and supposing 
him to be there, she set out to cross the river, and 
just a3 she arrived at the bank, an old Indian 
stepped ashore. He could not talk English, but 
requested by signs to know where she was going. 
She signified that she was going to cross ; when he, 
supposing she intended to deliver herself up to them 
as a prisoner, kindly offered to carry her and her 
child across on his back. But she refused to be car- 
ried. He then insisted upon carrying her child ; to 
which she consented. The little girl cried, and said 
" she didn't want to ride the old Indian.'' She was, 
however, persuaded to ride him ; and they all set 
out to ford the river. 
18 



206 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

Having proceeded about half way across, they 
came to deeper and swifter water ; and the old In- 
dian, patting the mother upon the shoulder, gave 
her to understand that if she would tarry upon a 
rock near them, which was not covered with water, 
till he had carried her child over, he would return 
and carry her also. She therefore stopped and sat 
upon the rock till he had carried her daughter and 
set it upon the opposite shore, when he returned 
and took her upon his back, lugged her over, and 
safely landed her with her child. 

Supported by a consciousness of the justice of her 
cause, braving every danger, and hazarding the 
most dreadful consequences, not excepting her own 
life and that of her children, she now sat out to ac- 
complish her object. 

She hastened to the commanding officer, and bold- 
ly inquired of him what he intended to do with her 
child. He told her that it was contrary to orders 
to injure women or children. " Such boys as should 
be taken," he said, " would be trained for soldiers, 
and would not be hurt." 

" You know," said she, in reply, " that these little 
ones cannot endure the fatigues of a march through 
the vast extent of wilderness which you are calcu- 
lating to pass. And when their trembling limb? 
shall fail to support their feeble bodies, and they 
can no longer go, the tomahawk and the scalping 
knife will be the only relief you will afford them. 
Instead of falling into a mother's arms and receiv- 
ing a mother's tender care, you will yield them into 



I 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 207 

tlie arms of death, and earth must be their pillow 
where the howling wilderness shall be their only 
shelter. Truly a shelter from a mother's tears, but 
not from the jaws of wild beasts or a parent's grief. 
And give me leave to tell you," added she, " were 
you possessed of a parent's love, could you feel the 
anguish of a mother's heart at the loss of her first 
born, her darling son, torn from her bosom by the 
wicked hands of savage men, no entreaties would be 
required to obtain the release of my dear child." 

Horton replied, " that the Indians were an un- 
governable race, and would not be persuaded to 
give up any thing they should see fit to take." 

" You are their commander," continued she, " and 
they must and will obey you. The curse will fall 
upon you for whatever crime they may commit ; and 
all the innocent blood they shall here shed will be 
found in your skirts ' when the secrets of men's 
hearts shall be made known ; ' and it will then cry 
for vengeance on your head ! " 

Melted into tears at this generous display of ma- 
ternal affection, the infamous destroyer felt a relent- 
ing in his bosom, bowed his head under the weight 
of this powerful eloquence and simple boldness of 
the brave heroine, and assured her that he would 
deliver her child up when the Indians arrived with 
him. The party who took him had not yet returned. 
When he arrived, Horton, with much difficulty, pre- 
vailed on the Indians to deliver him up. After she 
had gained possession of him, she set out, leading 
him and her little girl by the hand, and hastened 



208 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

away with speed, while the mingled sensations of 
fear, joy, and gratitude filled her bosom. She had 
not gone more than ten rods when Horton followed, 
and told her to go back and stay till the scouting 
parties had returned, lest they should again take her 
boy from her. She accordingly returned, and tarried 
with the Indians till they all arrived and started for 
Canada. While she was there, several of her neigh- 
bors' children, about the same age of her own, were 
brought there as captives. Possessing benevolence 
equal to her courage, she now made suit for them ; 
and, by her warm and afi'ectionate entreaties, suc- 
ceeded in procuring their release. While she 
waited for their departure, sitting upon a pile of 
boards, with the little objects of charity around her 
holding fast to her clothes, with their cheeks wet 
with tears, an old Indian came and took her son by 
the hand, and endeavored to get him away. She re- 
fused to let him go, and held him fast by the other 
hand till the savage monster violently waved his cut- 
lass over her head, and the piercing shrieks of her 
beloved child filled the air. This excited the rage 
of the barbarous crew so much as to endanger her 
own and the lives of the children around her, and 
compelled her to yield him into his hands. She 
again made known her grievances to Horton, when, 
after considerable altercation with the Indians, he 
obtained her son, and delivered him to her a second 
time, though he might be said to " fear not God nor 
regard man." Thus, like the importunate widow 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 209 

who " troubled the unjust judge," this young woman* 
obtained the release of nine small boys from a 
wretched captivity, which doubtless would have 
proved their death. She led eight of them away, 
together with her daughter, all hanging to her own 
clothes and to each other, mutually rejoicing at their 
deliverance. The other, whose name was Andrew 
Durkee, whom the Indians had carried to the house 
of Mr. Havens, was there released according to the 
agreement of Horton with Mrs. Hendee, and sent 
back on account of his lameness. 

Being told that the great bone in his leg had 
been taken out in consequence of a fever sore, an 
old Indian examined it, and cried out, " No boon ! 
no go ! " and, giving him a blanket and a hatchet, 
sent him back. 

Mrs. Hendee carried two of the children across 
the river on her back, one at a time, and the others 
waded through the water with their arms around 
each other's neck. After crossing the river she 
travelled about three miles with them, and encamped 
for the night, " gathering them around her as a hen 
gather eth her chickens under her wings." The 
names of the children who were indebted to her for 
their release from the savage tribe were Michael 
Hendee, Roswell Parkhurst, son of Captain Eben- 
ezer Parkhurst, Andrew and Sheldon Durkee, Jo- 
seph Rix, Rufus and Fish, Nathaniel Evans, 

and Daniel Downer. The latter received such an 



Mrs. Hendee was at this time aged twenty-seven years. 

18* 



210 • ■ BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

affright from the horrid crew that he was ever af- 
terwards unable to take care of himself, wholly unfit 
for business, and lived for many years wandering 
from place to place, a solemn though silent witness 
of the distress and horror of that dreadful scene. 

Mrs. Hendee now (1818) lives in Sharon, where 
the author visited her, and received the foregoing 
statement of this noble exploit from her own mouth. 
It is also corroborated by several gentlemen now 
living, who were eye witnesses. 
- She has buried her first and second husbands, and 
now lives a widow, by the name of Moshier. Her 
days are almost gone. May her declining years be 
crowned with the reward due to her youthful deeds 
of benevolence. She has faced the most awful dan- 
gers for the good of mankind, and rescued many 
from the jaws of death. 

In view of the exceeding riches of that mercy 
which has protected her through such scenes of 
danger, may she devote her life to the service of the 
mighty God, and, at last, find a happy seat at the 
right hand of Him " who gave himself a ransom for 
all." And thus let the children who are indebted 
to her bravery and benevolence for their lives " rise 
up and call her blessed." Gratitude forbids their 
silence ; for to maternal affection and female hero- 
ism alone, under God, they owe their deliverance 
from savage cruelty. The boldest hero of the other 
sex could never have effected what she accomplished. 
His approach to the savage tribe to intercede in be- 
half of those defenceless children most surely would 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 211 

have brought upon himself a long and wretched 
captivity, and perhaps even death itself. 

The Indians, having accomplished their nefarious 
designs, returned to the house of Mr. Havens with 
their prisoners and the plunder of houses which 
they had devoted to destruction. Here was the 
place where they had commenced their ravages. 
The old man, as before observed, having concealed 
himself under a log, at the time he espied the Indians 
in the morning, while hunting for his sheep, still 
remained in sorrowful silence undiscovered. He 
had considered it unsafe to move, as a party of the 
crew had continued there during the day, and had 
twice come and stood upon the log under which he 
lay, without finding him. 

After collecting their plunder together, and dis- 
tributing it among them, they burned the house and 
barn of Mr. Havens, and started for Canada. It 
was now about two o'clock in the afternoon. They 
carried off twenty-six prisoners from Royalton, who 
were all delivered up to the British as prisoners of 
war. 

They all obtained their release, and returned in 
about one year, except Adan Durkee, who died in 
camp at Montreal. 

Twenty-one dwelling houses and sixteen good new 
barns, well filled with hay and grain, the hard earn- 
ings of industrious young farmers, were here laid in 
ashes by the impious crew. They killed about one 
hundred and fifty head of neat cattle, and all the 
sheep and swine they found. Hogs in their pens and 



212 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

cattle tied in their stalls were burned alive. They 
destroyed all the household furniture except what 
they carried with them. They burned the house of 
Mr. John Hutchinson ; and giving his wife a hatchet 
and a flint, together with a quarter of mutton, told 
her to " go and cook for her men." This they said 
to aggravate her feelings, and remind her of her 
forlorn condition. 

Women and children were left entirely destitute 
of food and every kind of article necessary for the 
comforts of life, almost naked, and without a shel- 
ter. Wandering from place to place, they beheld 
their cattle rolling in their blood, groaning in the 
agonies of death, and saw their houses laid in ruins. 
Disconsolate mothers and weeping orphans were 
left to wander through the dreadful waste, and 
lament the loss of their nearest friends, comfortless 
and forlorn. 

The Indians took away about thirty horses, which 
were, however, of little use to them, but rather 
served to hinder their progress. Their baggage 
was composed of almost every article commonly 
found among farmers ; such as axes and hoes, pots, 
kettles, shovels and tongs, sickles, scythes and chains, 
old side saddles, and bedticks emptied of their 
feathers, warming pans, plates, and looking glasses, 
and indeed nearly all kinds of articles necessary for 
the various avocations of life. 

On their return they crossed the hills in Tun- 
bridge, lying west of first branch, and proceeded to 
Eandolph, where they encamped for the first night, 



BURNING OP ROYALTON. 213 

near the second branch, a distance of about ten 
miles. They had, however, previously despatched 
old Mr. Kneeland, a prisoner whom they considered 
would be of the least service to them, with letters 
to the militia, stating that " if they were not fol- 
lowed the prisoners should be used well ; but should 
they be pursued, every one of them would be put to 
death." 

The alarm had by this time spread through the 
adjacent towns ; and the scattering, undisciplined 
militia shouldered their muskets, and hastened to 
pursue them. They collected at the house of Mr. 
Evans, in Randolph, about two miles south of the 
encampment of the Indians. Here they formed a 
company, consisting of about three hundred in num- 
ber, and made choice of Colonel John House, of 
Hanover, New Hampshire, for their commander. 
They supposed the Indians had gone to Brookfield, 
about ten miles from that place, up the second 
branch. With this expectation they took up their 
march about twelve o'clock at night, hoping they 
should be able to reach Brookfield before light, and 
make them prisoners. They had scarcely started 
when the American front guard, to their utter sur- 
prise, were fired upon by the rear guard of the 
enemy. Several fires were exchanged, and one of 
the Americans wounded ; when Colonel House, 
through cowardice or want of skill, commanded 
them to halt and cease firing. He then ordered 
them to make a stand, and kept them in suspense 
till the Indians had made their escape. To hasten 



214 BURNING OF ROYALTON. 

their flight, the savage tribe were compelled to 
leave at their encampment a considerable quantity 
of their plunder, nearly all the horses, and made 
good their retreat. 

Here they killed two of the prisoners, by the 
names of Joseph Kneeland and Giles Gibbs. The 
former was found dead, with his scalp taken off, and 
the latter with a tomahawk in his head. 

At daylight Colonel House courageously entered 
the deserted camp, and took possession of the spoil ; 
but, alas ! the enemy were gone, he knew not where. 
Urged by his brave soldiers, who were disgusted at 
his conduct, he proceeded up the second branch as 
far as Brookfield, in pursuit of the enemy, and, not 
finding them, disbanded his men and returned. 

Had Colonel H. possessed courage and skill ade- 
quate to the duties of his station, he might have de- 
feated the enemy, it is thought, without the least 
difiiculty, and made them all prisoners. His num- 
ber was equal to that of the enemy, well armed with 
muskets, and furnished with ammunition. The ene- 
my, though furnished with muskets, had little ammu- 
nition, and were cumbered with the weight of much 
guilt and a load of plunder. They had encamped 
upon a spot of ground which gave the Americans 
all the advantage, and their only safety rested in 
their flight. The American force consisted of un- 
disciplined militia, who promiscuously assembled 
from different quarters, but were full of courage, 
animated by the principles of justice, and determined 
to obtain redress for the injuries they had received 
from the barbarous crew. 



BURNING OF ROYALTON. 215 

Many of them, likewise, had friends and connec- 
tions then in possession of the Indians, to obtain 
whose freedom they were stimulated to action. But, 
alas! their determination failed, their hopes were 
blasted. They were forced to relinquish the object, 
and suffer their friends to pass on and endure a 
wretched captivity. They, however, forced the In- 
dians to leave the stream and take their course over 
the hills, between the second and third branch, which 
brought them directly and unexpectedly to the house 
of Zadoc Steele, whom they made prisoner, and 
took to Canada. 



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